


Happy Birthday, Johnny Lawrence

by StrikeLikeACobraKai



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Can anyone say Sexual Healing?, Canon-Typical Violence, Diners, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fights, Gifts, Karate, Karate gets you in the mood, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Parking, Protective Siblings, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Rough (ish) sex, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Smut, Unsafe Sex, bonsai, pool parties, sensei lawrence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27382927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrikeLikeACobraKai/pseuds/StrikeLikeACobraKai
Summary: 1985, Summer: Johnny’s just turned eighteen, but ever since All-Valley and the altercation with Kreese, he hasn’t been himself, and he doesn’t know where his life is going. His friends don’t really know what to do to help.Kimmy Brown is Bobby’s older sister, and she’s known Johnny and his friends ever since they were in middle school.A pool party at the Brown house offers a night of new possibilities, and old secrets.Very Cobra Kai-centric (the five OGs), and also strongly features the Brown sibling relationship.
Relationships: Bobby Brown & Johnny Lawrence, Bobby Brown (Karate Kid)/Original Female Character(s), Dutch (Karate Kid)/Original Female Character(s), Jimmy (Karate Kid)/Jennifer, Johnny Lawrence/Original Character(s), Johnny Lawrence/Original Female Character(s), Tommy (Karate Kid)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 57





	1. Happy Birthday, Johnny Lawrence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7 chapter story + optional epilogue (deleted scene from chapter 7)  
> Chapter 1 stands alone as a long oneshot. If you want more, after that, keep reading :)
> 
> Follows KK1-3 canon, and Cobra Kai’s retroactive canon until 1985, after that, some divergence would result from this story. In the unknown gaps, I include my own creations: Bobby was born in 1966, December, a year after his sister Kimmy, and they’re very close. This makes Kimmy about a year and a half older than Johnny, who was born in August ‘67.

My brother’s friends are still psychos, and I kinda think they always will be.

Here’s the scene right now: my backyard pool. Mine and my brother Bobby’s.

It’s the summer after his senior year, and there are eighteen-year-olds in our pool, splashing, laughing and drinking; guys and girls lying and sitting on the pool lounges around our rectangular pool, flirting in their bathing suits (and drinking), maybe twenty people all up. And my brother’s gang, centre stage.

There they are now: Tommy and Dutch are doing flips from our new diving board, splashing everyone on the lounges. Tommy’s laughing like a hyena every time someone gets drenched, or some chick complains. A couple emerges from the pool house down the shallow end: I see a guy I don’t know well slapping Beccy on her butt while she walks away, grinning and fixing her bathing suit. Two other girls summon her to their lounge, their faces eager for the gory details. No one else cares; they aren’t the first (and won’t be the last) to get laid today.

Jimmy is standing on the other side of the pool, over by the palm trees. He tries to karate chop Tommy every time he somersaults off the diving board, and then Tommy’s had enough, and jumps out to spar with him, joking, laughing, just a few blows and a kick from Tommy, which Jimmy dodges before wrestling his friend into the pool.

This gets a cheer. They have everyone watching them of course, and watching appreciatively. They expect and enjoy the audience. Their lean, strong bodies, mens’ bodies shaped by their training years, by soccer and karate and all the rest, are on full display, with only skimpy bathing shorts keeping the mystery alive. Yeah, they put on a good show.

I don’t mind looking. After all, they are all legal now (I think), and anyway, I’m only a year older than they are.

“Hey, so did you mean these?”

It’s my brother Bobby, coming out the back door. He’s gone from the pool to the kitchen, and brought out a bunch of snacks from inside. He’s still dripping wet.

“Yeah, but don’t forget the stuff in the fridge?” I tell him. I can see the water trail he’s left on the kitchen floor. “You know what, on second thoughts, don’t go back in there.”

Bobby grins, tossing me two huge bags of Frito Lays and taking a step back toward the pool. “Yeah, yeah… can’t you get it for me?”

“These are your friends!” I call after him. “Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I’m gonna do all the hosting shit.”

Tommy grabs Bobby by the ankle, and he’s trying to pull him in. “Quit nagging me,” Bobby shouts back, with an infuriating puppy-dog smile as he tries to disengage from Tommy; a little brother smile he knows enrages me and makes me love him in equal measures.

It’s Tommy who speaks, with one hand clutched to his chest as he bobs in the water. “Aw, come on, Kimmy, you’re killing me, here. I thought we were _your_ friends, too?” He tries unsuccessfully to look crestfallen, but gives up and grins, when Dutch laughs from his side.

“Yeah, you wanna break his heart, or what?” Dutch asks up at me.

“I’ll break _something_ ,” I mutter, but I’m already refilling the snack bowls, and I figure I may as well fill up the drinks cooler, while I’m at it.

Sure, Tommy’s right: his gang are kinda my friends, too. Hard not to be, with four or five solid years of them being underfoot at my house at every opportunity, and sometimes I hang out with them when there’s a whole big group, like today. I’ve got my own friends, freshmen in my college year, but I don’t tend to mix the groups. I like Bobby’s friends. They’re a lot of fun, but my girlfriends don’t really approve, telling me they’re ‘so immature’. Sighing as I watch the mischief in the pool, I can see their point.

Although, they miss their gang leader, I think, the one who’s usually the centre of the action and calling the shots.

Bobby calls out, “Hey, Johnny!” hollering at the lounge, over there near the pool house. “Come swim?”

The motionless figure in sunglasses shakes his head, calling back, “Maybe later,” which is more than I’ve heard him say all day.

“Suit yourself, man,” Dutch calls back. “But you’re missing all the fun!”

He and Tommy join forces and pull my brother in by the ankles, and Bobby’s yelping, splashing everyone as he tries to get them off him. I see Dutch pushing him down, high fiving Tommy, whooping loudly at the cheers he gets from the audience, and I know he’s starting to kinda step into Johnny’s place. The guys are beginning to look to him, Tommy especially, which isn’t the greatest, because Dutch scares me a little.

None of my business, I guess.

It’s sad to see Johnny all alone over there, though; it’s so unlike him. He’s still in the dark mood he’s been in since New Year, but he’s here, which I guess is a start. He’s not gonna swim, of course, even with what he said. Won’t even wear a bathing suit either, which, let me tell you, is a _shame._

Today’s about the longest I’ve seen him in a row since All-Valley eight months ago. He’s been here for hours. He hasn’t done much, been lying there the whole time, I think, singlet and denim shorts on, shades down, blond hair ruffled. But like I said, he came, at least. Hopefully a step in the right direction.

A few people have said ‘happy birthday’ to him, too, but he isn’t having it. It’s like he doesn’t want the attention today, which isn’t like the old Johnny. We all miss that Johnny: that cool, confident, life of the party. His friends most of all, but of course those idiots don’t know where to start to help him; they’re just teenage guys. What do they know?

I’ve heard from Bobby about the tournament, and that teacher of theirs, during and after. What he made Bobby do. He’s so ashamed about it, poor kid, and his biggest regret is that he didn’t just say ‘no’. I can’t say I understand why Bobby stayed at Cobra Kai all those years in the first place, if that asshole was there, but at least it’s all over now, I guess.

It hit Johnny much harder. It’s like he’s depressed, but worse than that. I dunno.

I still can’t believe he just quit karate like that. My brother was about a second behind him – no surprise. My dumb, sweet, loyal brother, who would follow Johnny off a cliff.

He’s actually awesome, my Bobby, but if anyone tells him I said that, I _will_ kill them.

So no more Cobra Kai. And maybe there was no time for karate with finishing senior year anyway, if I had to guess. It seems a shame. I watched Johnny in that tournament for the last four years, watched all the boys. They have a gift. Bobby, for sure; Johnny though, man… he’s something else.

On an academic level, I appreciate him moving around the mat in that gi: his strikes, his defence, his aggression, his _mastery_ of the sport, of his body _._ The way he didn’t let my poor brother score even a _point_ in ’83.

On a more basic level, Johnny doing karate _does_ things to me. Hell, there have been many moments over the years when I’ve appreciated him off the mat, too, one of the perks of being older sister to his best friend. He is always at my house.

Or at least he was…

Since Christmas, it’s probably been what… four or five times?

Everything’s changed. He and I used to talk, sometimes, joke around in the kitchen, have a chat before they headed out for training. Right back when I was a sophomore, it even felt like we were flirting, maybe. In my wildest dreams anyway.

The most awkward teen years are gone now, and Johnny went off the market not long after that, stayed off for years. It was just a little crush for me, and while I can’t honestly say it’s passed, it didn’t bother me, either. I kept busy with a guy or two, myself.

And somewhere in there, Johnny grew into a man.

His boyish, almost angelic looks are not gone; the man keeps getting hotter. Whoever gets her hands on him next will have a number of jealous ladies to contend with, I guess. From what I pick up, he made his way through a few of them in spring ( _great_ way to fix a broken heart), although I don’t think even one was serious.

I realise it’s been a long time since I saw him happy, or laughing, joking.

It’d be great to see that smile of his again.

*

“Chill out, man!” Jimmy shouts, and Tommy cackles.

They just drenched a couple who were making out, and the guy, Brad, is halfway up off the lounge to retaliate, shouting at them, before I suspect he remembers that the Cobras are all black belts.

He thinks better of it, and sits back down. Laughter, a little cruel, comes from the pool. Dutch and Tommy, leading Jimmy along for the ride. The usual thing is happening: the more they drink, the louder and crazier they get. I’d better get a swim in, before I miss my chance, before pure chaos descends.

But I decide to check on Johnny, before I get changed.

“Get you a beer?” I ask, already holding one in my hand as I approach him.

Johnny barely moves, but somehow I know the eyes behind the shades are on me. “Sure.”

I press the cold can into his hand and our fingers touch briefly, but if Johnny notices it, he gives no sign.

“You’re welcome?” I prompt lightly.

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks, Kim.”

It’s weird. He’s the only one who calls me that, and I _like_ it. To everyone else I’m Kimmy, or Kimberly, but I like that Johnny has his own name for me.

I smile. “Like I said, welcome. Let me know if you need anything.”

“It’s cool. I can walk.” He’s opening the beer, and takes a sip.

“Suit yourself.” I shrug. I get the feeling he wants to be left alone. But the thing is, he’s been doing that for months, and it isn’t helping. He can’t do it forever.

I take a breath, and give it a try. All I want is for him to know I’m a friend, if he wants one. And ‘cause I’m a girl, maybe he could talk to me about stuff, who knows. I don’t need him to be ‘on’, to be _Johnny Lawrence_ , and be cool and all that shit.

Course, I can’t say any of that out loud without embarrassing both of us.

“I know what today is,” I offer hesitantly.

“Yeah?”

I sigh and offer him a small smile. “I’m remembering a birthday party at the skating rink over by North Hills. Your friends spent the whole night showing off to girls, trying hard, but mostly falling over, and skating around all night with wet butts. Not you, though.”

There’s one beat, one huffed out breath from him, not enough to call a laugh. We are both thinking about fourteen-year-olds, and how wrong they are about what looks cool.

“Losers,” he pronounces. “I was the king of balance.”

The words are right, but they have no soul. It’s not the real, self-sure Johnny who speaks; he’s merely playing the role for me, although I wish he wouldn’t.

I don’t call him on it.

“You were, Johnny. You were cool as all hell.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, and I think maybe, just _maybe_ , his face softened a little.

“Yup. One of my friends had the hots for you then, big time.”

Well, it’s not like I’m gonna tell him it was me.

“Lots of chicks did.”

I laugh, but he doesn’t. He’s saying all the right words, words which I have _always_ known cloak a far-less confident Johnny, who lives behind that curtain. But I get the feeling it’s an effort, and he doesn’t really want to play today.

I’d love to tell him that I _see_ him; that I think I’ve always seen him. And that he can drop the jerk act, and he’ll actually be more cool, not less. But that would never fly. He’s gonna have to work that one out for himself.

“Let me know if I can get you anything, huh? I’m going for a swim, but I’ll be around.”

He raises his shades, and looks at me with those irresistible blue eyes. They aren’t cold, and maybe he wants me to see that.

“Thanks, Kim. You go swim. I’m fine.”

*

I’m wearing my black string-tie bikini.

It’s gotta be the coolest, raddest and baddest bathing suit, compared with all the fluoro shit in our pool, and it makes me feel confident.

When I hoist myself up the concrete pool edge, up and out of the water, and walk back to the diving board, I know some people are looking at me. I’ve got a decent tan, and my body isn’t bad. It goes in where I like it to go in, and out where I like it to go out, and I haven’t had a complaint about it.

I’m not the hottest girl in Encino, hell, I’m not the hottest girl here today, but I’ve learned at college that confidence can go a long way.

Actually, I guess the first person I learned that from was Johnny, although he’s got a really pretty face to back it up. I’m not completely sure what my own is like, although again, I haven’t had any complaints.

I squeeze my long brown hair out and arrange it in a bundle before raising my hands to dive in again.

Jimmy, sitting on the pool edge, glances quickly away when I catch him looking, and I doubt he’s the only one. It’s nice to be wanted like that. I doubt I’ll be looking for anyone tonight – I don’t do that very often. I prefer a boyfriend to a one-night stand, and besides, yeah: Bobby’s friends, and all that. Sheesh.

But it makes me feel good. They seem a little less crazy now that I’m swimming in here, too, except Bobby who wants to dunk me. I splash my brother, and then help him to pull Tommy back into the water. He yelps in betrayal at us, slipping from our grasp, and they all start to warm up again.

I avoid them after that, and do a lazy lap or two, cooling off and refusing a drink offered to me by Jimmy. After that, I lie on the pool edge, in the sun, head back, one knee bent up, eyes closed, for twenty minutes or so, listening to the sounds around me. It makes me feel warm and sleepy, happy sleepy.

Time for another drink; it’s nearly dusk.

*

It’s night time, and Bobby and Dutch have got the fire going in the half barrel, back a bit from the pool. Bobby’s friends have pulled up the chairs and lounges all around the fire, far enough back so we can fit quite a few.

They are refreshing their drinks now. I bring out sausage links, marshmallows and long forks, and announce, “Dinner and dessert are served,” dropping it all on the plastic table. “Help yourself.”

I get a round of ‘thanks’, and some of the guys and girls start reaching for the food immediately.

I realise it looks suspiciously tidy by the pool. I grin at my brother where he’s sitting. “Bobby, have you been a good brother and tidied up the empty cans?”

He sticks a finger up at me. “You could just say ‘thanks, Bobby’,” he teases. “Why you gotta get on my case?”

“ _Thanks, Bobby_ ,” I mimic. “Cos you’re my little brother. Sister’s right.” It’s fun to try to embarrass him, although it doesn’t really work like it used to.

“Fuck off,” he says, but he smiles at me before sidling up to one of the girls, one of Ali’s friends. “Any room on this seat?” I hear him ask, followed by her eager answer.

I roll my eyes and refill the drinks cooler one more time before I find my own spot. There is an empty chair near Jimmy, and a lounge near Johnny, which is where I go with my beer.

Johnny’s not eating yet; he’s turned his lounge side on to get near the fire. I guess he’s cold, because he has his red jacket on now, although I notice the Cobra Kai patch is gone from the front. I don’t stare, but I can make out a black patch, a square where the logo used to be, almost like he’s in mourning.

And I guess, maybe he is.

I fix my lounge to be at a resting angle, but mostly upright. When I sit down and curl my knees up, I’m sitting end to end with Johnny; our bare feet are about a yard apart.

“You want one?” Jimmy is offering me a cooked sausage.

“Ah, thanks.” I smile, taking the fork from him, because it’s too hot to touch the meat.

“No problem. I can get you another one?”

“Nah, one’s fine. Thanks, Jimmy.”

I make sure to smile at him like a friend, because I’m getting a stronger vibe from him today than usual, and I don’t want to lead him on. I’m not cruel. It’d just be _too_ awkward with Bobby.

There’s only one of his friends that I’d even consider enduring that awkwardness for, and it isn’t Jimmy.

I eat while I stare into the fire, listening to the conversations around us.

I wait at least three minutes before looking Johnny’s way again. His shades are gone, and he’s turned side on and is looking at the fire, too. Bobby gives him something to eat, and I notice with a pang my brother’s eager face when he looks at Johnny, looking for any signs of life, longing for a crumb of attention from his friend. Johnny talks to him a bit, and occasionally to others, in small bursts, if someone talks to him. Mostly, he just stares at the flames.

A few girls make eyes at him. An offer to have him join one on her lounge gets merely a brusque ‘no thanks’; a flirty request from another for his jacket gets a quick glare; and a girl in a bikini bending over right in front of him to pick up something she ‘dropped’ gets no reaction at all. They give up. They’ll find other options, and it won’t take long.

Johnny is curled up in his jacket, quiet again. I realise he’s right: it’s freezing. Up I get, and grab one of the white towel robes from the pool house. I put it on over the bikini, and when I sit back down, I notice Johnny track my movement, although he looks back to the fire a second after we make eye contact.

A few discordant warm-up strums, means that Tommy’s got the guitar out. He and Dutch will trade off playing and singing for a while, as they do, and they really are pretty awesome.

They play 60s and 70s rock, mainly, and sometimes people sing along, or even shout along, when the ballads get going.

When I roll onto my back to stretch out a bit, my foot touches Johnny, who has done the same, and I withdraw.

Instead, I stretch my arms up behind my head, and bend my knees up toward me, careful not to look like I’m trying to give Johnny an eyeful up my robe.

Of course, I wouldn’t mind at all if he looked, but the thought of him knowing that I want him to, especially if he doesn’t… god, _kill me._

I shutter my eyes most of the way and listen to ‘Hotel California’, sung with Tommy’s clear voice. That one usually gets sung at least twice by us natives; it’s probably the favorite.

Johnny’s looking at me. There’s not quite enough light for me to be sure if he’s staring properly or not, but he’s facing me for sure, and so I don’t move.

Casually, I let my knee fall to the side a little, as if I’m relaxing my muscles, peaceful, aware that this would make a change to the view from Johnny’s lounge, although nothing too obvious or obscene. It’s two, three songs, Dust in the Wind. Slipping Away. 

Johnny hasn’t moved a muscle. I’ve got to keep a stupid smile off my face at the idea I might have his attention on me. But maybe I’m wrong. He wouldn’t watch me so long, surely? I open my eyes, to check, only to meet his gaze head on.

Yeah. He was. We stare at each other for three seconds, four, and then he breaks away to look at the fire.

Of course, my heart is doing a leap inside me, because that, sure as fuck, was _a look_.

Before I wither and die from how much I want him to look at me like that again, they start up with Boston.

Given that this is an acoustic performance, ‘More than a Feeling’ always gets very shouty, to compensate for how the song should be.

It’s infectious. Most of them are up and singing into air-mics, dancing (if you can call it that; we’re pretty drunk and it doesn’t have what you could call noticeable rhythm or steps), and I can’t hold out until the end of the first chorus before I am up, too. This is just a happy song, and poor Johnny, _poor_ Johnny, he’s the only one who’s not dancing. Or doing really bad air-guitar solos, like the one Tommy is doing at my feet, up at me.

No one makes a big deal about Johnny sitting there; we’re having too much fun. That might be the ghost of a smile, though, as he watches his friends go insane.

I’m out of breath at the end, laughing with Dutch, and joining him to grab more beer. When we all settle down again, my seat is taken before I get there. It’s Jimmy with a girl.

I almost think at her, _that could have been me_ , _you know,_ before her face disappears behind/into his, but really, I’m fine.

I turn instead to Johnny, just briefly. The look I give is, I hope, _just_ enough of a question that he can easily pretend not to notice, without hurting my feelings, if he prefers.

In answer, he’s folding one leg into himself, creating a space, and holding out one hand, asking for a bottle from me. “That for me?”

“Sure,” I reply, passing him one of the beers (congratulating myself on my good planning ahead, there), and sitting down in the space he’s invited me into, facing the fire, side on from where he is. It’s almost, but not quite, sitting between his legs, enough to get the butterflies going down low in my stomach, but not enough for anybody, including me, to clearly identify as deliberate flirting from him.

I’m probably just a few inches away from him, from his legs at least, and I decide to sit with mine crossed, because it puts part of me that little bit closer.

Of course, now the group is singing, this and that, but there’s no more dancing. Bobby sees where I’m sitting, but I pretend not to notice him, and I can feel when his attention passes on from us.

I turn and ask Johnny later, during a lull, “So, which birthday do you like better?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, do you wish we were skating tonight, or is my singing enough that you’re having a good time?”

He watches me for another second, and I think he gets it now, gets that I am reaching out, because he actually smiles. It’s really brief, but I saw it!

“Your singing’s great. The beer’s not bad, either…”

“But you don’t get to show us your ‘balance king’ thing.”

He looks away instantly, frowning at the fire, and I know I’ve said something wrong.

‘Carry on, Wayward Son’ starts up, and so do some other voices, but not mine. I’m kicking myself, because I know somehow that the sudden melancholy is my fault.

It’s Johnny who speaks, quietly, and I guess only I hear it. He means it for me, anyway.

“I’ve lost my balance, Kim.” He glances at me, but he’s looking at the fire once more when he says, “I don’t know if I can find it again.”

I can’t really help the way my heart breaks for him, in some confused feelings of shallow lust, and real, deeper care for someone I’ve known for years. For someone who just showed me vulnerability, which he never shows anyone.

“You’ll find it,” I say softly.

He looks at me with clear disagreement.

“You will,” I say a little firmly. “There’s plenty of life left for you, Johnny. You’re eighteen. You have time.”

He only shrugs. “Maybe.”

“You lost something really important. That’s fucked up. It’s okay that that sucks.”

He eyes me speculatively, confirming my suspicions that he hasn’t really got anyone else who knows how to talk sense into him.

“It does suck.”

“It does,” I agree fervently. “And wherever you go from here, whether you go back to it, or go to something new, that’s okay.”

“There’s no going back,” he says bitterly.

“Well, I’m sorry, then.”

He breathes out a deep sigh, but nods to me. “I think I need about three more beers,” he declares, and clearly that is enough sensitive conversation for now. I’m okay with that: my goal was achieved, and I’ve opened the door.

“How about I get them this time,” he says. “You want one?”

“That’s okay, I’ll –”

But I’m stopped from standing up, by his hand on my arm, his skin practically burning mine where he touches my wrist, and he’s lithely up off the lounge without disturbing me, and off to get the beers.

When he settles down by me again, he’s moved closer; I feel the leg behind me, stretched behind my back, touching me, now, and neither of us moves away from the contact. I take a furtive glance around the fire to make sure my brother is busy (which he _certainly_ is).

Because Johnny is giving me all the signals. Is it wrong to reciprocate? When he’s so down?

God, I’m torn here. Part of me, or most of me, thinks maybe I can really cheer him up, even if it’s just tonight. That’s okay, isn’t it? Or would I be taking advantage like a selfish bitch?

He’s dropped a few beers by the lounge, and opens one to pass to me.

There’s plenty of distraction around us, so I feel okay about clinking bottles with him when he lifts his to me.

“Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.” I see him looking at my bare, crossed legs, even though his are too. “Aren’t you cold?”

I grin. “A little. I’m fine. I’ve got this robe now.”

I can’t risk going to get changed; I can’t lose this moment, lose my current position.

“So uh… did you get anything for your birthday?”

“Sure. I got a watch, got some tapes. Got a new jacket.”

“Couldn’t be as cool as that one you’re wearing,” I say, without thinking. Shit, the _Cobra Kai_ jacket. Not good.

But maybe it isn’t dangerous territory, because Johnny gives me a slight smirk. “You like my jacket?”

I roll my eyes at him. “It’s hot shit, Johnny. You know it is.”

I’ve always liked it better than the blue one Bobby has; it’s the sexiest thing Johnny owns, although I guess I’d need to consider his gis, so it’s a complex issue.

Victory comes to me, because I have forced him to laugh a little. “Kim, no one talks like you.”

I frown, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Even when you’re telling me you think I look hot in my jacket, you don’t kiss my ass.”

I play at being outraged, hoping the fire hides my red cheeks. “I never said you look hot -”

He smirks again. “You don’t think I’m hot?”

“Oh my god, _shut up_. Stop fishing for compliments. Even on your birthday, it’s a dirty move.”

“Whatever you say, Kim.” He swigs his beer.

Every time he says ‘Kim’, I can feel a flutter in my stomach, and I want to tell him to stop, because it is driving me a little bit crazy. Filling me with _wild thoughts_.

“But, anyway,” he continues, “like I said. I like the way you talk to me.” He’s staring at me again. “Always have.”

“I’m glad?” I offer, and take a drink. “So, did my brother give you anything?”

“Yeah, who do you think got me the jacket?”

“Cool! Hey, if you decide you don’t want that red one, it will always have a home with me.”

“Right.” He smiles.

*

Once Bobby has gone into the house with a girl, I feel freed up to stay inside Johnny’s space, even leaning over him to grab another beer from his private stash.

That’s a nice moment, because our faces are pretty close for a second, and he’s really, really nice to look at from that distance. I like the color of his eyes in the firelight, reflecting the glow, and I like the way they stare right at me until I move back to sit down.

I think I know where this is going, at least where I am _really_ hoping it will, but I won’t push just yet, so I settle back into my place and open the beer.

If I’ve let my robe bunch up my thigh a bit (or more than a bit), on the side where Johnny is sitting, it probably looks like an accident to an outside eye. I don’t really care much.

When I next look at him and see his eyebrows raised, just a little, just enough, I know he noticed.

“How much longer do you give it?” I ask. “The party?”

Johnny and I are old hands at parties like this. “They are breaking off already,” he correctly identifies.

Couples are heading inside, and some have disappeared some time ago. Boy, am I glad I locked my bedroom.

“They are. Are you staying?”

“Yeah.” He waves his beer at me. “I can’t drive tonight.”

“Cool.”

Music is coming from a boom box now, and I realise that Dutch is making out with a girl, the bikini one, guitar forgotten.

“Oh. I forgot,” I say on a sudden. “I have a present for you.”

“You do?” He looks surprised.

“Of course. Just something small. I’ll give it to you before you go.”

“Now you’ve got me wondering,” he tells me.

*

We talk to the others a little longer. Dutch is gone, somewhere, and it’s not long until it’s only Tommy and Donna, making out by the pool, and then her giggling while Tommy leads her around the house to where his car is parked in the driveway. I hear a door open and close, but no engine starts up, so clearly the car isn’t being used for driving.

I’m not one hundred percent sure Johnny is thinking what I am, but I knew that this was the moment I wanted.

No one here to see us, if there was going to _be_ an ‘us’.

“So, about your present.”

Johnny has just finished the last beer, and placed the bottle down by the lounge. “Yeah?”

“You want it, now?”

Johnny takes a breath before answering, looking from me to the fire, and back again.

He knows what I’m asking.

He’s right; we can’t go back, this is crossing a line. But lines aren’t necessary bad, are they? They can be part of something new.

He nods, saying softly, “Yeah, I do.” His eyes are boring into mine.

I’m on my feet. There’s no turning back, now. I can barely believe I’m holding out my hand to him, that he takes it, and stands with me. It brings him really close, and I lose my nerve for a second, with him gazing down at me.

I move backwards, although I haven’t dropped his hand. Are we really alone here? I’m taking no chances.

“I… uh. You’ll have to come with me.”

He gives a crooked little smile. “I thought I might.”

I grin, and start walking him around to the side of our yard, where we have the square gazebo.

It’s all timber, about ten feet across, four posts and a roof, and the air smells like the honeysuckle which grows up the posts. In it is a big old wooden table, fixed to the ground; the outdoor chairs folded and stacked up in the corner over there. I go inside. There’s not a lot of light: a glow from the house lights on, some light from the streetlamp over the fence. It’ll be enough.

Johnny isn’t far behind me, but he doesn’t come all the way in. Instead, he leans back on the timber post, hands deep in the pockets of his red jacket, the trace of a smirk playing across his lips.

He gives me an expectant look. “So, my present?”

“Your present… huh…” I glance left and right and give a small shrug, hopping up to sit on the outdoor table, my legs hanging off, my knees spaced apart.

My eyes never leave his. “Could’ve sworn I left it around here, somewhere.”

Slowly, I loosen the belt of the robe, until it _just_ comes untied, but go no further. I’m leaving that for him. Leaning back, resting my palms on the table behind me, my movement causes my robe to part in front.

He can’t stop his eyes from going right there, and then meeting mine again, his jaw tightening, and I feel like a queen. He leans his head back against the post and stares at me through partly lowered eyelids.

He speaks low, nearly a whisper, cocky smile on his lips. “People will hear us, you know.”

I can tell from his shift in posture that he’s preparing to move toward me.

I shrug carelessly. “If you don’t want your present…”

“Didn’t say that,” he says quickly, and with three steps, he’s standing between my knees.

I gaze up at him, tipping my head to one side. His hands peel out of his pockets, come up, slow, but stall before contact is made between us. I know it isn’t from hesitation; he looks way too sure of himself staring down at me.

Johnny’s moving slowly on purpose: I can’t tell if it’s to torture me, or savour the _before_ moment, or god forbid, turn and run away from me sitting here.

Nerves fight with my anticipation, but then he smiles, sighs; thank _god_. I see it clear as day in his eyes: he wants me, wants me _bad_ , as he looks at the strip of skin I’m showing him on my chest, the hollow of my cleavage.

“You gonna open up, Johnny?” I softly tease.

That crooked smile, so cocksure, was going to be the death of me. “Guess so… seems you can’t wait, huh?”

I laugh. “Don’t be a dick.”

One more glance at me, between my eyes. He knows, like me, that once we do this, we can’t take it back.

I smile as his hands find my robe and open it. With one hand, I undo the tie behind my neck, so that my bikini falls down in front, and he doesn’t hide his approval of what he sees.

He steps closer and I can feel his body meet mine. We both watch him touch me, his thumb running over the swell of my breast and then his hand fitting gently around it.

I sigh a breath, and his body automatically presses closer in response. His shorts drag lightly across the inside of my thighs, sending more desire up into me, as if I wasn’t already ablaze with it.

“You look so good right now,” he whispers, still holding my body with that warm hand, and it’s right after that that he kisses me for the first time.

It’s lovely, warm, and tastes of beer, and to start with, our lips just move together, slowly, delicious kisses as he caresses my body, my stomach, his hands sliding to cup my ribs.

I tighten my knees to bring Johnny against me, and I hear a noise in his throat that goes straight to my centre. He presses in, and a throb goes through my body; I can’t be quiet when I feel like this.

He moves from kissing my mouth to kiss along my cheek, and stops to whisper to me. “I knew I’d get you making noise.”

Somehow him being full of himself in that moment is the hottest thing I can imagine, because I whimper like an idiot, and he chuckles in my ear.

I simply cannot let him have this all his way, and for some reason, the only thing I can think of is to force his head down to my breast.

I hear a pleased chuckle, and he kisses me softly, and then takes my nipple between his lips with delicate pressure, and sliding his tongue over me.

Yeah, I’m moaning. Johnny is going to have to deal with it, and so is anyone else who is listening. Too bad.

Fortunately, he likes it a lot, too. I can feel his hardness pressing me, and I don’t know if he recognises that he’s got a rhythm going there, his body rubbing me as if we’ve already started. It’s just his shorts and my bikini between us, but all the same it does seem like too much.

I’ve shrugged the robe down, off, and it’s on the table behind me. I undo my top, sitting up ready before him, nearly naked with him now, ready for anything he wants from me. He kisses my chest again, harder this time, keeping up when my hands curl into his hair, telling him I like it.

He pulls away with a groan, and he’s breathing hard, eyes burning.

“Fuck, I _need_ you, Kim. Please…”

I nod urgently and his mouth takes mine, the deep kiss forcing me backwards, down, but I make sure to bring him with me, shuffling up further onto the table so we have room. He’s climbing up over me, as my legs fall open for him, and he’s kneeling between my knees, pushing them up and open, his weight absolutely perfect on me, his body so achingly firm where I can feel it under his clothes.

He’s reaching to quickly take off his jacket, rolling it up.

“Lift up,” he tells me, as he places it under my head.

He stares down at me. “Do you have anything?”

“I’m on birth control. It’s fine.”

I wonder, if I had said ‘no’, if either of us would have been able to call this off. I’m not sure I would have.

He smiles, and sits back onto his knees.

I get the sight of him peeling off that singlet now, and seeing his broad chest and shoulders, his firm stomach, his arms.

He fucking _knows_ how turned on I am by his body, because he looks at his most arrogant with that smile, but I don’t give one fuck, because I am about to claim him as my own.

He must be clenching his stomach, because how else could it possibly look so tight, so _perfect_ , as he undoes his fly button with one thumb. He’s leaving it at that for now, even though I can see the shape of him straining in there. He’s looking down at my bikini bottom, fingers playing at the string ties under my hips, not undoing them just yet, and I feel more triumph when I see the lust he has for me right now.

There’s a stroke along the crease of my thigh, and he looks from there, slowly up my body again, until he stops at my eyes.

“This is the best present. No contest.”

I laugh quietly. “I aim to please.”

“I can see that,” he says appreciatively, as his hands roam softly up my chest and then back down my stomach.

“Do you want these on or off?” he asks, as his thumb runs along my bikini again, sliding just underneath to where my hair begins. I’m so _ready_ for him there that I can’t breathe properly.

“On?” I say, and he grins, and lowers his body down over me once more.

His tongue is with mine again, and I can feel his hand between us, one hand; first he is releasing himself, and then he is moving my bathing suit aside, then pressure, round and big, and he’s _in_ me. He slides in slowly, and I’m hissing in delight.

I hear his ‘yes’, just quietly against my mouth, and then the moments all seem to blend into one.

He’s not taking it very easy: his hips are pushing into me, and I can feel his animal need. It _thrills_ me.

“Harder,” I confirm, and he obliges with a groan.

We need this so much, he and I, and I guess it was all the build up, because I can’t ever remember sex feeling this good, not with someone the first time, at least. It could just be a sign of how much I want Johnny, but I don’t want to dwell on that right now, because I’ve _got_ him, tonight.

My body is being moved up the table, up and down with his rhythm, but I have his jacket and my robe underneath, and I can’t even notice whether we are comfortable or not.

Sometimes he kisses me; sometimes we breathe together, sharing our urgency that he go faster, that he _keep going_. His hand touches my breast, cups my cheek. I can feel his hair, slightly damp with sweat, and I know it would be darkening in that sexy way it does that I don’t understand, but _love._

I understand very little, or nothing, because this man is taking me straight to heaven. His body, his beautiful body, so firm wherever I touch him, and his mouth, kissing me and taking my moans. I start to feel really tight, and I know I’m making a lot more sound than I meant to.

“Johnny…”

“Fuck, you’re so _good_ …” he groans against my mouth.

I realise with a shock that I think I might be able to come. I’ve never done that with a guy’s help, but I’m close. I take hold of his hand and force it down between us.

Thank god, he seems to get it, because he starts to touch me there, and it’s enough.

I cry out, and I go so tight as it happens, as my brain disconnects and everything is just release and pleasure. It feels like it could be the happiest moment of my entire life, having Johnny do this to me, feeling him inside me as I’m clenching and digging my fingers into his back. His hips go rigid, and then I know he’s _there_ too. He’s swearing as he kisses me, and I feel him convulse.

After, he’s lying on me: still, quiet, wonderfully warm and heavy. He doesn’t pull away; doesn’t make me feel the cold yet.

We kiss again. Back to the gentle version, with lips mostly, and we slowly catch our breath.

He pulls back to look at me, resting on his elbows, his face above mine, and my _heart._

I have no idea how long we’ve been here.

He begins, “You, um…”

“Yeah, I did,” I say, and I can’t even be mad that he’s smirking about that. I actually get the feeling it might be a first for him too, seeing he looks so proud of himself.

“That good, huh?”

“That good,” I agree, refusing to be baited.

He grins, and I realise he’s been happy, maybe for an hour, could be longer tonight, but he’s happy, he’s forgotten everything just for a bit, and _I_ did that.

“I think I remember which one is your room,” he says. He’s getting dressed in his singlet again.

“Oh yeah?” I ask, still feeling dazed.

He’s pulling me gently up. “Come on. Put my jacket on.”

I obey, smiling at the warmth, and the way it smells like him. I put my bikini top in the pocket.

He closes it over my breasts, although not before having a good look at that image.

“Hmm, looks pretty good on you, too.”

“Must just be the jacket after all, huh?”

“Must be.” He grins. Before I can argue, he’s lifted me up, and he’s carrying me in his arms, like a child, toward the back door.

“Someone might see us.”

“You gotta quit worrying about that. Besides, if anyone’s awake and not – busy – I’m pretty sure they heard what just happened.”

“Oh _god_ ,” I sigh, thinking of my poor brother. Awkwardness is coming, I can feel it. I’d prefer it to come tomorrow, though, if possible.

Nothing can be allowed to ruin this night.

Johnny gets us to my room unscathed, and I remember to grab my key from the kitchen on the way there to unlock my door.

He kicks it closed behind us and looks at my bed.

“Mind if I… sleep with you tonight?”

He puts me down, at last, and I’m already sliding off my bathing suit, although it is hard to part with the jacket, so I don’t.

I pull back the covers, and wait for Johnny to climb in beside me.

*

When he’s gone the next morning, when I wake, my heart sinks.

When I find the note he left on my dressing table, it enters the fucking stratosphere.

**_Kim_ **

_I know. You’re awake, and I’m not here. Don’t take it the wrong way! I couldn’t face seeing Bobby, and having him know I stayed in your bed. You know what he’ll be like. I didn’t want my morning spoiled._

_Forgive me?_

**_Johnny_ **

****

_P.S. If that was a one night stand, I’m cool with that. It was fucking amazing._

_If you want more, and I get the feeling you might, I’m open to that…_

_How bout a movie?_


	2. New

I come down really late for breakfast. I don’t feel like socialising; I feel more like replaying last night in my head about a hundred more times. I’m hoping, by the middle of the day, everyone will have gone home, and I am in luck: they have.

It’s just Bobby sitting at the table in the kitchen, and I try to put the daydream on pause, although it’s tough.

“Hey,” I greet him, seeing that he’s made a share plate of toast and got some spreads on the table. From the pile of dishes on the counter, and the stools moved out of place, it looks like there were lots of people eating breakfast earlier, and none of them cleaned up. Big surprise.

“Morning,” comes the reply from behind me when I get to the fridge.

“Have fun?” I ask.

His chuckle is the answer. “Thanks for your help last night. You’re not a bad sister, I guess.”

“Oh yeah?” I reply, throwing him a smile over my shoulder. “Jury’s still out on you as a brother.”

I get the finger, which I always take as a win when I tease Bobby. “Maybe you’ll let me know.”

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to.

I think about coffee, then a glass of milk, but settle on OJ and close the fridge. “Your friends, though,” I add. “Geez, Bobby. Horny little shits.”

I grab some glasses down from the cupboard, and it takes a while for the reply. “I think someone got nailed out in the yard, at the end of the party. Dutch said he heard some action in the gazebo.”

There’s something just a little off in Bobby’s voice, so I pick up the carton of orange juice and slowly pour two tall glasses, a good excuse to keep my back turned.

“Yeah? So what? Those friends of yours were getting busy all over the house. Saw someone go into a car, too.” I turn around and shake my head at him. “Crazy night, like always.”

Bobby watches me as I put the glass down in front of him, and sit down. It’s too direct, so I can’t meet his eyes, I just can’t.

“I just hope they were safe,” he says quietly, still looking at me with those little brother eyes.

I shrug, playing it off as I reach for some toast. I really hope my face isn’t burning, like I worry it might be, as I spread butter.

“Bobby, your friends are a bunch of horndogs and no one’s gotten knocked up yet. Chill out.”

I summon a grin at him, before I munch my toast. Every single part of me is bent on playing it cool right now, because he can’t know, he _can’t._

Finally, he looks down at his plate, and it’s all I can do not to breathe a sigh of relief.

“The girl getting pregnant isn’t the only thing you gotta worry about, Kimmy. You know?”

I huff a laugh. “Some medical symptoms you wanna tell me about, little bro?”

He bites back a smile. “Fuck off. I don’t do risky shit, so I don’t have the clap.”

“Uh huh,” I say sceptically, still smiling at him.

The serious demeanour cracks, and I thank the stars I still know how to tease him.

“Anyway,” I say, “I saw _who_ you were doing, and I’m not so sure. You might want to get a test or something.”

“Don’t be a bitch,” he bites back, but he’s trying not to smile. “Cindy’s a nice girl.”

“Mmm, I agree. Accommodating, from the reports I hear. You guys going steady, or what?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You wanna?”

“I’m not sure?”

I sigh at my clueless brother.

I’ll keep the focus on Bobby while we finish breakfast. With any luck, he’ll have forgotten about his suspicion (if that’s what it was) by the time we go out to clean up outside.

Mom and Dad will be back at dinner, so we gotta get everything ship shape. Gotta make them feel like they can go away anytime, and we can throw the next party.

*

“Have you got a date, honey?” Mom asks, when she sees me fixing my hair in the bathroom. The party was three days ago. One phone call, when I got the note, was all it took to bring me to this place, nervously assessing my appearance, getting ready for Johnny to pick me up.

I smile at Mom in the mirror, and she beams. She is always too interested in my love life, but there’s no telling her to stay out. She really wants me to find ‘the one’ and it gets _kinda_ creepy sometimes.

“Thank goodness. College finished, and you’ve been home all summer and no dates.”

_Gee, thanks, Mom._

I’ve been out with my friends a dozen times, but of course, that counts for nothing.

“Here, let me help.” She starts fixing the hair pins for me, around my high ponytail. I don’t use this look all the time, because it makes me look like a total Valley girl, but I know it suits me, makes my hair look really long falling down my shoulders. “Anyone I know?”

I shrug, awkward. “Just some guy.”

“You’re being mysterious.” She’s watching me closely, but I smile innocently.

“It’s our first date,” I say honestly. “Come on, I don’t wanna jinx it.”

She laughs quietly, and takes over the hairspray for me.

“Break a leg?” she offers.

“Thanks, Mom. And um… don’t wait up?”

*

Johnny picks me up at eight, and it’s not dark yet. The top on the red convertible is down, of course, so Johnny’s blond hair is windswept, falling over his eyes a little (which is possibly the best thing that I’ve ever seen) and he brings the car to a stop halfway up the drive. I’ve run out to meet him there. He slides his shades up, looks me slowly, appreciatively, up and down, and there’s a pleasant clench in my stomach when I see the swagger in that smile.

He notices how eager I am to get into the car, and he says suggestively, “What’s the rush?”

I jump in beside him, begging him, “Go, please, before they see?”

He gives a low chuckle, but obliges me, throwing the car into reverse. “Alright.” He glances at me when he takes a look over his shoulder to pull out. “But I don’t even get a kiss?”

“Maybe a goodnight one,” I hedge, “when you drop me home.” I see him smirk, and take in some more of the short blue skirt I’m wearing. “Watch the road,” I instruct, biting back a smile.

“Bossy.”

“You have no idea.”

I reach for the stereo and turn the radio on, switching over until I find something good. He’s going north on the 405, and we drive along with the sunset brushing the hills with gold.

When we pull up at the drive-in, I wonder if I should offer to pay half, but Johnny’s way too old-fashioned for that, and to be honest, I love it. Yeah, yeah, I’m a terrible feminist.

On the other hand, Johnny has come back to the car with our sodas and snacks, and he jumps into the backseat, behind the driver’s. With the look he gives me, I don’t mind too much if he wants to do things his way. He’s parked us right at the back of the lot, so I guess he intends to watch little of the movie.

“Come join me,” he tells me, patting the seat.

I’m surprised by how bold I feel climbing into the back with the soft top down, with anyone being able to see us, but it’s dark now, and I guess everyone is watching the screen, because the trailers are done and the movie’s starting up.

Honestly, I haven’t seen a frame.

Johnny’s got his hands empty now, which is why I’m not allowed to sit down on my butt, but instead get lifted across his lap, facing him. He settles me so I’m sitting right across his tight jeans. He brushes his hair out of his eyes, and circles his arms around my back, pulling me close.

“Hi,” he says up at me, impossibly magnetic.

“Hi,” I whisper, captivated. I turn my head and kiss him softly, because I want him to know that girls can make the first move (maybe he realised that the other night already?), and he tastes of sweet, cool Coke.

I like it. I can’t really believe he’s taken me out tonight, that he wants to see me again, but I guess now he knows I’m a sure thing, and I refuse to be ashamed of that. I _want_ him, what’s wrong with that?

I’m going to enjoy myself as least as much as he will.

“So has our cover been blown?” he asks, when I pull back to get a little more comfortable on his lap.

I place my up hands on the shoulders of his sweater. “Nope. Pretty sure we’re all clear.”

“Cool. And you managed to sneak out with me, without anyone knowing where you are?” he clarifies, and I know he means Bobby, but doesn’t really want to think specifically about my brother right now, any more than I do.

“Sure did.”

“Good girl.” He strokes my hair, possibly unaware of how bewitched I am by his eyes. “You look real nice tonight.”

I smile, biting my lip, stunned by how much I enjoy him praising me.

“So,” he says softly, “I keep thinking about the present you gave me on my birthday.”

I can feel a little blush, but I say, “You really liked it, huh.”

His hand is on my cheek now, his eyes never leaving mine, fingers curling to stroke my neck, and he’s just so _good_ at this, it drives me crazy. It’s like he makes me feel like there’s no one alive but us.

He’s drawing me down, and then we are kissing again, and this time I feel his tongue slowly touching mine. He’s really, really good at this, too. At knowing what I like, which is mostly gentle and slow, except when I need more. He kissed me like this in my bed, for what seemed like hours before we fell asleep, and I swear it’s like magic.

We come up for air sometime, he’s staring at me a little harder now, and I smile when I feel his hand slip up under my shirt.

“I’m not used to you wearing so many clothes.”

“Shut up.”

He smirks. “Am I allowed to take any of them off?”

“ _Johnny_.” I push him lightly. “People will see.”

He breathes a laugh. “Fine, how about the ones underneath?”

I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Come on, I never got to finish taking those off the other night.”

I shake my head and smile, but have no intention of not following this excellent plan. It’s just that I’ve already realised it’s quite a thing to see him come up with reasons, to beg me without actually begging.

“I’ve always been told not to put out on the first date,” I say down at him. Then I lift up and shimmy, with as much grace as I can, out of my panties, one leg and then the other. Johnny’s eyes go wide when I toss them in the front seat and sit back down on his lap.

He swallows hard. “Shit. Let me guess,” he says, a slight shake in his voice. “You’re not that kind of girl?”

“Uh uh,” I agree. “Sorry.”

“Worse luck for me.”

I can tell how much he’s enjoying me playing with him, or at least I can feel it, because his hips lift up under me, his passion for me pressing into me. The pleasurable friction against my bare skin makes me grit my teeth.

I really want him to undo his jeans, but instead his hands move slowly up the inside of my thighs; they bunch up my skirt and then keep moving and he’s brushing my skin, teasing me, although at first, not anywhere that soothes my itch.

When one finger does slide softly over me, I nearly buckle, which of course makes his cocky smile come out. All that does is make the feeling hotter, because let’s face it, that look is basically perfect on his face.

I start quietly moaning as he explores me. He didn’t do this the other night except for a few seconds at the end, and he’s being really gentle, almost too gentle, but it’s also lovely. It makes me feel naughty enough to reach up behind my back and undo my bra, slipping it out from my shirt, and then smiling at Johnny in invitation.

His other hand pulls my shirt up, drags it up so he can look at me a little, and when he bends his head to kiss me there, I arch my back and give myself over to him.

“You are so hot,” I hear against my skin, and feel his hips moving again.

I need him, now, and those fingers that are inside me just aren’t enough, although they are making my head spin.

“ _Now,”_ I plead, out loud without meaning to, but I’m glad I did, because his hand retreats and I can feel him undoing himself.

“Yeah?” he breathes, a taunting smile. He leans up to kiss me, and mutters against my lips, “You’re gonna have to be quiet this time, Kim. Can you do that for me?”

I nod desperately; it’s immediately a lie, because he’s touching me again, and I’m whimpering. A few more seconds of pressure in the right places, and then his fingers are gone and he slides inside, and I groan into his mouth.

He chuckles, triumphant, cos he likes the idea that I simply _cannot_ be quiet, although I swear, I’m trying.

His hips buck up into me. He uses his hands around my waist, setting our rhythm, and then I take over, moving against him, and his approval is sighed into the deep kisses on my neck.

I’m savoring every second of having him inside me again, more aware of the sensations this time, and it’s wonderful. His hands caress me, my stomach, my back, my face; the way he kisses me, the heavy breaths, the way he’s so silky, so hard, down there.

I get to see it in his eyes when he goes over the top this time. My heart is so happy it may as well have burst out of my chest, and I fold myself, weak, elated, against his body.

I’m hoping he doesn’t know whether I joined him then, or not, because I don’t mind at all that I didn’t; that was a one in a million shot that night, and honestly, there is nothing missing from this moment, lying in his arms after _that._

He’s stroking my hair again, and eventually I need to stretch out, so I climb off his lap, at last.

I watch a little of the movie, sipping Coke, but I’ve missed way too much: there’s swimming pools, and aliens, and then spaceships, and the ocean, and I can’t work out how the plot ties together. So I mostly just daydream as I lie snuggled against Johnny, his arm around my shoulders.

When I eventually look up at him, just to wonder what he’s making of the movie, I can see he’s resting his head on the side of the car and watching me.

He smiles. “I thought you might have gone to sleep. Wasn’t sure whether to take it personally.”

“Just wondering what the fuck the movie is about, really.”

“Yeah, no clue here, either. You uh – you wanna go?”

“Sure. We could go for a drive instead?”

Johnny’s already climbing into the front seat, and I follow him, wondering if I’ll be able to find my underwear.

*

Johnny and I have been out again a few times. We gotta make the most of the summer, and there’s no time to waste.

My crush on him is hitting me so hard, every time we look at each other, the way his hands send me crazy, the way he _takes_ me.

I know he’s seen Bobby too, of course, because all of a sudden, it’s like the start of this year never happened and they are hanging out all the time again. Usually some or all of the gang are involved; barely a day goes by without them going for a bike ride, or driving up to the hills or the beach, and they hang out at our house, sometimes, too. I have been careful not to cross paths with them when they do, sure that I am not a good enough actress.

I get Johnny when the guys aren’t around. We’ve been to the beach, and to some local hangouts to eat on the way home, and we’re not taking that much care about being seen, except for when he comes to pick me up or drop me off.

He’s teaching me this shooting game at the Pier one night, arms around me completely unnecessarily (I know how to do it, but I’m enjoying his hands-on lesson, so sue me), when we run into Daniel LaRusso.

Someone bumps into us from behind, cos the place is packed, and when Johnny turns around, probably expecting an apology, this voice says, “Oh, you gotta be _kidding_ me.”

Daniel’s got his hands up, defensively, backing away from us, and Johnny lets go of me.

I mutter, “Oh shit,” and they stare at each other with narrowed eyes.

Then Johnny just gives Daniel a dismissive look. “Watch where you’re going.” He could have said it _way_ more rudely, considering the lack of apology for bumping into us, but of course LaRusso fires up.

“Hey, man, look, I don’t want any trouble-”

“Then take a hike,” Johnny suggests, warningly.

“Hey, look,” the skinny guy says, unable to get the hint. “I got as much right to be here as you.”

Johnny snorts and he’s gonna turn his back. Good for him, I think.

“Thought you’d gone to Japan.”

“Yeah?” says Daniel, mockingly. “Well, I’m back.” He just can’t leave it _alone_ , and he has this nasty little smile when he says, “How’s karate going, Johnny?”

I see Johnny draw in a deep breath. You can tell by the little shit’s face he knows Johnny doesn’t do it anymore, that he said it to taunt him. There’s a _lot_ of ways this can go (or mostly one, _stupid_ way), so I put my arm up in between them.

“Hey, you gonna show me that game you mentioned?” I say, snapping my fingers and coming right up into Johnny’s space.

It breaks the spell: he looks at me, as if surprised to see me for one second, and then he relaxes visibly.

“Sure, yeah. Sorry.” He gives Daniel a glare of mild loathing, and grabs my hand. “Sorry for the rude interruption. Some people have no manners.”

We’re walking away, when Daniel tries one last time to push Johnny’s buttons. “Hey, miss? You might wanna look somewhere else for love. This guy doesn’t make the greatest boyfriend material. Believe me, I know.”

“ _Asshole_ ,” I hear Johnny mutter, and he starts to turn around.

The nerve, and the sheer stupid _pig-headedness_ of the guy’s riled me up, too, I’ll admit. All of a sudden, I think I might be able to appreciate Johnny’s feud with him, after all, but I grab hard onto Johnny’s hand and pull.

“Forget it,” I whisper. “He’s a loser. Don’t let him ruin our day, hey?”

I plead with Johnny with my eyes, and after a few seconds he relents.

“Mind your own business, LaRusso,” he calls over his shoulder, and gives Daniel no further satisfaction.

*

Johnny’s pretty tense for the rest of that date, and I’m pretty mad at Daniel, by the end.

Seriously, how can anyone be so _clueless_ about leaving well enough alone?

I mean, I _saw_ Johnny, I saw him congratulate Daniel on the mat. Sure, I know, he wouldn’t have been able to vocalise the word ‘sorry’ for hurting him, or tell Daniel he wished he hadn’t gone for his leg when Kreese ordered him to sweep it, but Bobby told me about the carpark after, and I know Daniel was _there._ He _saw_ everything.

How can he not _get_ it? He saw Johnny nearly get killed, by someone he trusted. Does Daniel think that bullshit magically went away, right after?

And what kind of person mocks someone when they’ve decided to get away from a psychotic sadist? Kicks someone when they are so far down? Are you kidding me?

Johnny wants to drop me home early, and I suspect he will go home to dwell on this until it festers, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Daniel ruin all the progress Johnny’s been making.

Johnny clams up about seeing his old enemy, won’t take any of my questions about it, glares at me when I won’t quit asking. So if talking’s off the table, then I have one idea left.

I talk him into driving up to Griffith Park, and when we get there, I’m on my knees in front of him. His head is thrown back against the upholstery, letting me care for him like this. I watch him, telling him many silent things with my eyes, while I do it.

It changes something, it connects something with us.

It’s warm inside my chest the whole drive home, and when Johnny isn’t changing gears, he’s got his hand on my knee.

*

One night, when Mom and Dad have gone to bed, Bobby and I are in the den, watching late night TV.

He’s been a bit weird today, a bit off, and it’s making me nervous. I do kinda wonder if we should tell him, but _how_? Thing is, it’ll be a lot worse if he finds out we kept it secret.

I still don’t know exactly what _it_ is, but it’s definitely something real, now. It’s just so hard to say with Johnny. He plays things so close to the chest. When he held my hand in Santa Monica, right out where anyone could see us, I knew that was a step, even if the rest of that day was a mess.

Bobby shatters my illusion of covert success, about fifteen minutes later, when he says, “So, why didn’t you tell me about you and Johnny?”

He’s got this disappointed look on his face, this hurt that twists my gut, and I bury my face in my hands.

I want to say ‘I’m sorry,’ but the first thing out of my mouth is, “He _told_ you?”

“Yeah he told me, eventually, but only after I worked it out for myself.”

I peer out at him, and he’s looking at me like he doesn’t know who I am. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“No, Bobby,” I start, sighing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you, I promise.”

“I’m not hurt,” he lies, “I just don’t get it. Why sneak around like that?”

“We’re not sneaking.”

“Oh yeah? What do you call it, then?”

“I actually don’t know what to call it, yet. We’re just having fun, I guess.” I put a hand on his knee. “But I am sorry.”

He’s not looking at me, but I go on. “I couldn’t work out how to tell you. Seriously, plus I wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with it.”

He snorts. “You mean I have a choice?”

I bite my lip, asking, “What did Johnny say, anyway?” and I realise I’m really invested in what the answer to that question is.

“Well, same kinda shit you just said, I guess. Considering he spent the last few weeks being a totally different person than he was all year, and he’s been like – you know – he’s been _happy_ , I knew something new was up. He’d been going out at night at lot, too, always ‘busy’, and guess what – so were you, and you were secretive about it. I’m not stupid. He caved, admitted it right away.”

“Admitted what?” I need to know.

“That you guys are dating, or whatever.”

It’s the ‘whatever’ that I’d like some clarity on, but I know Bobby can’t give it to me.

“I really am sorry,” I repeat.

“Yeah, yeah, everybody’s sorry,” he laments, but I can see Bobby’s okay. I’m forgiven, pretty much.

I smile my thanks at him for being cool, but he shakes his head at me. “So what, am I supposed to keep your dirty secret now?”

“Is that – can you do that? Please? Just for a bit. I just wanna see what happens, for now.”

“You’ll owe me. Big time.”

“Whatever you say.”


	3. Hidden Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left me Kudos and to KingKarate for the very kind comments. It means the world!
> 
> This is my first story in the fandom, and the first time I’ve made an AO3 account and posted here, so I’m a bundle of nerves, haha.
> 
> It’s great to know people are reading and enjoying. I’d love to hear from you about it :) I'd especially like to hear what works well for you: not only would that be encouraging, but it will help me writing more stories!

The four guys are here, hanging out with Bobby.

They all rode up on their bikes together, late in the afternoon, and I saw them parking round the side. Johnny was taking his helmet off, and he flashed me a winning smile when he saw me, but they were all around him, basking in having their leader back, so I left them to it. They’re like little lost boys, and I can’t blame them: you just get pulled into Johnny’s orbit. I know.

They whisked him away pretty quickly, down to the den. I’m gonna have to assume (or hope) that maybe he’ll come find me, at least for a minute or two, if the coast gets clear, but then again, maybe he won’t. I don’t think he’s required to: our thing isn’t like that.

They’ve got pizza and sodas down there, and if I had to hazard a guess, probably a secret bottle of whisky that my parents (who are in the living room, where the VCR is) don’t know about.

I’m not gonna head down to hang out with the guys and watch TV like the odd girl out, but I don’t feel like sitting with Mom and Dad either. I decide to get my chores done, so I can do whatever I want tomorrow. When I come back into the hall from taking out the trash, I can’t help but hear the gang’s voices trickle up the stairs, since they didn’t close the door.

“I saw Ali the other day,” Jimmy says, and there’s silence.

Finally, Johnny says, “Yeah, and so what?”

“So, nothing,” says Jimmy’s voice. “I’m just saying. She looked good.”

I can hear Tommy and Dutch snicker at that.

“Might be time to move back in, Johnny,” Dutch says.

“Stay outta my business, thanks.”

“Ooh!” Dutch teases, singsong. “Touchy.”

“Fuck off. Besides, isn’t she still with - you know?”

He bites out the last part of that sentence, and I smile automatically as I picture the disgust on his face, and how he won’t say LaRusso’s name.

“They broke up at prom, Johnny,” Jimmy tells him and with those words, anxiety settles into my stomach. I could have done without knowing Ali was single again, and even more without Johnny knowing it, too.

Jimmy is still speaking. “Surely you noticed he wasn’t trailing around after her at school, during finals.”

“I was kinda busy.”

I notice my brother isn’t saying anything; the only other one in that room who knows about me.

“Yeah, my man here was hell bent on getting into UCLA!” cheers Dutch.

“I _got_ into UCLA,” Johnny says coldly.

“Alright, keep your shirt on, Johnny. So you killed it with finals, and the SATs.”

Johnny relents. “You did alright, too, Dutch. Guess we all had plenty more time to study after – with not being in Cobra Kai, anymore.”

“Stupid asshole,” Jimmy says, and I know he’s talking about Kreese. “What do you think he’s… doing? Now?”

“Who _gives_ a fuck,” Bobby says.

But it’s a more venomous voice, Johnny’s, that says, “Hopefully, lying in a box somewhere. That prick can rot in hell, for all I care.”

“Right on,” Tommy says fiercely, while the other voices hum agreement.

“So, what do you say?” Jimmy asks, and everyone seems to know the topic’s switched back to Ali.

“No way,” Dutch answers for Johnny. “She’s used goods now, right? Just think about all those months she spent with Daniel, all that time they must’ve -”

“I really, _really_ hope you don’t finish that sentence,” says Johnny’s icy voice. I die inside, listening to how raw of a nerve Dutch hit, how angry Johnny is.

Clearly, he’s still cut up about losing Ali, and all that time, I thought he was moving on.

There are tears coming now, and I’m stunned by how much it hurts. Without even knowing I can hear him, Johnny just broke my heart.

I swallow the hard lump in my throat and head up to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

*

It’s eleven thirty, and I’m in bed, when there’s a knock.

I roll away from the door and stare at the window through my open curtains. It’ll be Johnny, I’m sure of it. How can I possibly face him? I’ve stopped crying now, but my face is a mess, and I just don’t know what on earth I could say to him, right now, anyway.

It’s my own stupid fault for eavesdropping, but I heard what I heard, and maybe it’s a good thing I got a reality check. Before I got too carried away.

I decide to pretend I’m asleep. And then shit, I realise the light is on, so he’ll know I’m not.

Johnny knocks again, and adds, in a loud whisper, “Kim?”

I sigh and flop onto my back, glaring at the ceiling before I hop out of bed.

He knocks again while I’m walking to the door. “Kim, it’s me. Can I come in?”

I open it a crack, hoping to hide the worst of it. Time to play sick, and I better be convincing.

“Hi… Johnny. Sorry. I uh – I’m not feeling well.”

His face creases with concern. “You okay? Can I – can I get you something?” He reaches to push the door open. I’ve got my foot there, and he frowns when the door doesn’t open any further.

“No, I’m ok. Please… just… don’t come in, okay? Not tonight.”

He frowns again. “Hey, it’s okay. I didn’t come up so we could – I just wanted to see you.” He offers me a smile, imploring me. “Let me in, please?”

Those blue eyes torment me, more than anything in my life, in that moment. The sharp hurt that came from what I overheard is still loose in my chest, pricking me painfully. I’ve got to get him to _leave._ Now. Before I do something stupid, like start up crying again.

“No,” I say, more firmly than I mean to, but maybe it was a good idea, because he steps back, looking, well, hurt.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “No problem.” He’s looking bewildered, wondering what he’s done, but I can’t tell him.

“I’m sorry,” is the best I can do. “I’m gonna go to sleep, okay?”

“Sure. Sure, whatever.” He’s stung, I can hear that, but I won’t make eye contact. He concedes, putting his hands in his jean pockets. He turns, preparing to go, saying hesitantly, “I’ll – I’ll see you, then.”

“Of course,” I say, although I hope to put that off for as long as I can, while I work out what I’m gonna _do_.

*

I realise, after a few days of not retuning his phone messages, that if I wait long enough, maybe we will break up without me doing anything.

Breaking up is the very last thing I want, because my heart feels like it is literally _empty_ now, but I can’t be with Johnny if he’s in love with Ali. That just hurts too much. To be so close to him, but not really be with him at all.

I can’t do it.

Bobby knows something is up with me, and for all I know, Johnny’s talked to him; I have no idea. He’ll probably try to get me in conversation about it if he does know, but I’m avoiding him pretty well by telling him my monthlies are real bad. His grossed out face bought me some time, for sure.

He heads out to soccer that day: he’s playing in some local summer comp, back competing, and he’s loving it. He asks me if I want him to pick up anything from the store, which I don’t, and then I’m home alone. Our parents are down in San Diego for tonight, Dad’s business dinner.

I could ignore the knock on the front door, but I peep through the hole and see Johnny there, gazing off up the street, waiting with his hands buried in the pockets of his new black jacket.

I’ve slipped the chain and opened the door before I can decide if it’s a good idea or not.

He gives a hesitant smile. “Hey. I was hoping you were home.”

“Bobby’s out,” I tell him, and I still haven’t moved to let him in.

Uncertainty, insecurity clouds his features. “Yeah, I know. Soccer.” He looks around me, inside. “Your parents?”

“Also out.”

“Good.” He wavers and then steps up to me. One hand on each of my hips, he draws me in. “Because I came to see _you._ I tried calling. You gonna let me in, or what?”

He’s tipping his head down, lightly touching our foreheads together, like he does when he’s thinking about kissing me, troubled when I don’t respond. It’s really hard not to just forget about everything, and go with it, but not meeting his gaze helps. I stare at our doormat instead, studying the frayed edges and the fibres that have come loose. “I don’t – I’m not sure that’s a good idea, right now.”

I can’t miss how face falls, back to how it looked the other night, and of course, he has no idea what’s going on here. God, I’m such an _idiot._ Why did I have to listen in to them talking?

He swallows. “Kim, what’s wrong? Have I done something?”

Yes. _No._ Goddamn it.

I bite my lip, hard, glance at him briefly, but I can’t hold it. I’ve got to get this out; there’s no other solution, because it isn’t fair to make Johnny think he’s done something wrong. He can’t help how he feels, and this is my fault, not his.

“Please, come in,” I sigh. “Just for a minute. I’ve got to – I’ve got to tell you something.”

He’s apprehensive, but he walks inside and I close the front door. “What’s happened?” he asks quietly. “What is it?”

I lean back against the door. We’re in the little tiled alcove on the edge of the living room. I’m mortified, and I don’t think I’ll be able to look him in the eye ever again, but I say, “I’m sorry, Johnny. I overheard you the other night.”

His brow knits in confusion. “You overheard what?”

“This is so embarrassing,” I huff out. “I heard that stuff. About Ali.”

He frowns at the name, says nothing and shakes his head. “You’re going to have to give me a few more details here. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Down in the den,” I explain. “I – when you found out – when Jimmy said she’s broken up with Daniel, now.”

I look at him, begging him to join the dots so I don’t have to _keep talking._ He waits a second to reply, “Yeah, and, so…?”

“And so… so I know you’re still…” I wave a hand, weakly gesturing at him. “You’re still in love with her.”

His eyes widen, and I look away quickly, the pain acute.

“It’s okay,” I say. “I get it - it’s fine. It’s totally fine, and it makes sense.” I speak a mile a minute, mostly at the floor. “I just… I think maybe it’s best if we don’t – you know – because I don’t really want to be the rebound girl.”

Johnny sighs deeply and looks up at the ceiling of my living room. When he looks back down, I dare one glance at him, and I’m surprised and confused to see his face soften with relief. “I see,” he says gently. He steps closer to me, and I try to retreat, but I’m prevented by the door at my back.

“Look – I’m really sorry I listened in, like that. Dirty move, and I didn’t –”

He puts a finger on my lips, and I stop. “You nearly - you gave me a heart attack, you know?” He smiles softly, looking between my eyes. “I…I thought maybe you decided you didn’t like me, anymore.”

I can’t reply, can’t think of anything to say, so he goes on. “Listen, really carefully right now, okay? Cos I’m only gonna say this once, and I expect you to believe me.” He lifts the finger away. “Okay?” He’s getting a bit forceful, but clearly I am required to give an answer.

“Okay.”

“All of that, all that you just said. That’s bullshit.” When I say nothing in acknowledgement, he raises his eyebrows and waits.

“I –” I begin uncertainly.

“Ali broke up with me a year ago. It took a while to move on, sure.” I detect a flicker of chagrin from him when he says that. “But I have. I’m not broken up about her… I haven’t been for ages. Kim, you know it’s not losing _Ali_ that’s been bothering me. Not anymore.”

There’s no lie in his face, and I’ve seen Johnny lie before. My heart seems to start beating again after a long pause.

And then I nearly _die_ , because _what did I just say_ to him? How did I make us have this conversation, and get this so wrong?

He laughs softly at my discomfort, but it’s not really mocking, because once more he rests his forehead on mine. “I don’t want you to be an idiot like this again.”

This forces a smile from me, although I try to bite my cheek instead. “Please kill me,” says my small voice. “I can’t _believe_ I just-”

“It’s fine. No big deal.” He smiles and looks down at my mouth. “I’m just so glad it wasn’t anything wrong. You had me going there.”

“Believe me, I didn’t mean to.”

_I was just so worried that none of this was real._

“You’re not my rebound girl, Kim.”

His arms are around my body now, and I lift my hands up around his neck.

“You are so cute when you’re embarrassed,” he murmurs, a few inches from my mouth, “you know that? You start biting your lip, and your cheeks go pink…”

“Fuck you.” Of course he won’t just _kiss_ me already; he’s got to torture me first.

He closes his eyes on a sigh when I say that, and then smirks invitingly. “If that’s what you’d like to do with me now, I’m all for it.”

“I bet you are.”

He’s holding me like I’m precious, and the way he’s looking at me is slowly killing me.

Then he muses, “You know, I don’t usually part with secrets, but maybe you deserve one, after that. Out of pity.”

“Spare me, you tease.”

“ _You’re_ the tease.” He narrows his eyes. He kisses me with passion for two brief seconds, pulling away the instant he feels me respond to his mouth.

I give him an outraged look, but he chides me, “You teased me all day and all night on my birthday, didn’t you?” I don’t know when his voice dropped so low, or when his knee got in between my legs like that, but a new feeling flutters in my stomach as I gaze up at him and he presses me into the door.

“That little bikini, lying about all day by the pool, wearing basically nothing, you on that lounge,” he lists. “I want you to tell me. Now. Was that show for me, all along?”

I refuse to answer that expectant look, although my grin is obvious.

“I knew it,” he mutters. He looks dangerous right now, the heat in his eyes, and it’s amazing. His thumb brushes over my lips, deliberately just this side of rough, and responsive sparks kindle in me. “A woman who knows what she wants… I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And here goes my secret. When I started to pick up your signal that day, I couldn’t believe my luck. Do you know how many years ago I started to notice you, swimming in your pool? Walked past your bedroom when I stayed over here when me and Bobby were younger, wondered what you might be doing in there, just then?”

I’m laughing a little, because I’m not sure what else to _do,_ with this surprising admission.

“Yeah, thought so… little tease. I’ve been thinking about you, about this…” He’s watching me, wanting me to get the message loud and clear. “For a long time.”

I think my smile could break my face, if I let it, so instead, I kiss him.

*

Two days later, and I’ve driven up to the huge white house. I’m waiting in Johnny’s dining room, standing on a plush rug by the long gleaming timber table, while he grabs something from his room. It’s real nice in here, I think, looking at the chandelier over the table, the panelling, the matching sideboards, the candlesticks lined up with new white tapers, those creamy curtains tied back in front of the windows. The floors are polished to shine, and there’s a grand piano on display in the next room. Every detail is perfect, like a photo of a new house. It’s beautiful, or at least it would be, if it didn’t feel barren, like this strange air of lifelessness.

Our kitchen table is the heart of our home, and even our dining room feels warm and cosy when we use it (although the table is usually covered with all the crap nobody except Mom can be bothered putting away).

This room is static.

As far as I know, Johnny’s lived here since he was real young, and I frown, thinking about what a childhood eating every meal in such a room might entail.

I’m picking him up today, since his car’s in the shop, and I’ve got a few ideas of what we might go out and do. I’m thinking tacos, to get our strength up for a hike, but we’ll see. And then margaritas at my house, since this crazy country doesn’t seem to think we’re old enough to go out drinking. Maybe instead I’ll talk him into watching some collegiate baseball; I know someone who’s playing, or maybe he’ll finally talk me into going go-karting.

A man, bald and in his fifties, comes through to fix himself a drink from the bar on the side of the room. He doesn’t say a word to me, doesn’t even look at me for more than the briefest second, so I speak timidly, “Hi. I’m just waiting for Johnny.”

He rolls his eyes and opens up a cocktail mixer. “Join the queue, we’re all waiting for Johnny.” He starts to scoop ice into the stainless steel tumbler. “Waiting for him to get his life together.”

I hide my shock at this unexpected, harsh comment out of nowhere, and bite back my first instinct, saying instead, “I’m Kimmy, nice to meet you. Johnny’s going to be going to my college this year. I think it’s great.”

I don’t think the man likes the pert way I regard him, since he chuckles derisively and shakes his head. He’s finished making his drink now, and he takes a big gulp while watching me. “You got stars in your eyes, kid. He’ll drop out. I’ll lay money on it. Just like he’s quit everything else he’s ever done.”

Johnny must have heard that last bit, because as he comes through the room to me, he’s watching the carpeted rug as he walks. It takes me a moment to realise he’s embarrassed that I’m here, hearing this. I’m silently really sorry, too, but it can’t be undone now.

“I was just telling…” I pause, looking at the man at the bar.

“Sid,” he offers reluctantly.

“I was just telling Sid how great it will be to go to college together.”

Johnny gives a hollow smile, rightly guessing how that would have gone over.

Before he can speak, Sid continues, “And I was letting this young lady know she’d be better off not putting her hopes in you. We all know you’ll quit, just like you quit karate last year.” He seems remarkably oblivious to the hurt he’s inflicting with his statement. I can see Johnny’s jaw clench tighter with every word, and a cold, but dull ire develops there.

“I told you that you would, remember?” Sid goes on. “All the way back when you first started.”

I catch it in Johnny, then: the way the attack falls is blunted by numbness. He’s inured.

Johnny hears this all the time. For all I know, he gets told this, or something like, every day of his life, and I _ache_ for him.

I can only assume this prick is the stepfather, and since I would be happy to spend not one more second in his presence ever again, I decide to take over, and get us out of here.

“I don’t want to be rude, sir,” I say, sickly sweet. “With all respect, Johnny is a champion, and no one can take that away from him.”

I can see he’s taken aback by my words, and I better cut them off soon, before I get carried away. “He’s no quitter,” is the last thing I say. I give Sid a second or two to challenge me, but I think I’ve thrown him off balance. Good.

I say a too-polite goodbye, and I’m relieved that Johnny follows me.

When I’m driving us out, I shake my head and sigh heavily. “Johnny. I’m _sorry_.”

“Yeah, for what?” is his querulous reply. He’s playing with the door handle.

“This may not be my place, but I’m sorry you have to live with someone that treats you like that.”

“Yeah well, I’m hoping to change that as soon as I can.”

*

He talks to me about it, a little bit, although lots of the gaps are filled in by what he _doesn’t_ say. I start getting a sense of the picture, and I can’t help but feel disappointed in his mom for marrying a guy like that, and letting him treat her son the way he does.

I don’t know what it’s like for a mother on her own, but it seems like something I would never do.

Somehow, I just know this is connected to Kreese, too, that it goes some way to explaining why Johnny stayed with that asshole. He’s used to being treated like shit. Maybe he even felt more belonging there when Kreese ordered him around like a soldier, made him tough, and gave him the bullshit code about mercy being for the weak. It’s gonna take some time to undo that damage, but being out from that influence, for all this time, is a good start.

*

When they all roll up to our parent-free house after Bobby’s next game, I’m not that surprised.

No pool party today, but they have made themselves at home in the kitchen, followed by the living room, just the gang this time, and approximately one girl each, by my count, including Cindy and that girl Jimmy kissed at the party, Jennifer, although the other faces are new.

Johnny’s made it clear to me with a look that I’m to stay here downstairs, to be part of this, which is interesting, but I go along with it. Cindy’s nice; we talk a little bit in the kitchen, since she’s the only girl I’ve chatted to before, although Jennifer joins in, too.

She’s pretty sweet, really, so a good match for Bobby. We all eat leftovers and candy, and drink beer out of red cups. Some of the couples are making out a little bit when some of us go into the living room, although it isn’t too crazy.

We’ve got a bunch of sofa chairs in here, all around the walls, except where the TV cabinet is. I sit down on one of the doubles, and Johnny comes to sit by me, once everyone’s in here. I start to feel the flutter of nerves when he smiles at me, because it looks like he’s decided it’s time his friends knew.

I only hope he’s right.

I’m not sure what he wants from me: I really, _really_ don’t think I’m going to be able to _make out_ with him, especially not with Bobby in the room, for fuck’s sake, but he seems okay with putting an arm around me, expecting and knowing that I’ll move up to cuddle him.

Which I do.

I guess, us sitting here - him twining his fingers through mine, holding hands on my knee - sitting like a couple, sends a more powerful signal than making out like horny teenagers.

Tommy notices first. He disengages from his activity with the new girl and lets out a whoop, bouncing off his chair onto the carpet, on his knees. “Go, Johnny! You’re a dark horse.”

I roll my eyes at Tommy, biting into my cheek as other faces turn to us.

“How about ‘Go, Kimmy’,” Jimmy suggests with a grin at me, which makes Jennifer smile, like friendly agreement with what he said.

I decide Bobby is the easiest one to look at, since I bet he feels as awkward as me. I’m right. He isn’t looking at us, and is instead covering his face with his hands.

“Nice _work_ , my man,” Dutch tells Johnny, from the single seat he’s in, with one of the girls draped across his lap. He speaks as if I’m a prize, as if not even here listening. I wonder if he’s going to come and clap Johnny on the back, but instead he claps his hands three times at us, giving Johnny looks that I wish he wouldn’t. _Dick._

Sweet Jimmy says, “Come on, Dutch. Leave ‘em alone.”

“Yes, leave us alone,” I manage, although I feel like hiding my head in the warm body next to me.

Johnny’s arm tightens possessively around me. “I assume no one has a problem with this.” He speaks authoritatively, not inviting anything other than agreement, like the king of the gang that he is.

“No problem,” Tommy says, but he and Dutch are still laughing together wickedly. I’m guessing it’s going to be many years yet before those two _grow up._

It takes a few more seconds before people realise Bobby hasn’t reacted, and I guess that’s when it dawns on their stupid faces that he already knew.

“Oh, so _that’s_ how it is, huh?” Tommy says to him accusingly, jokingly. He’s on his knees near the coffee table in the centre of the room, and he slams his hands down. “Holding out on us, now?” He makes to stand up, to spar with Bobby, but my brother drains his beer and stares at him.

“Please, don’t make me get up to defend my sister’s honor tonight. I’m having a hard enough time with it as it is.”

This gets a round of laughs, even from me and Johnny, and someone pours Bobby a commiseration beer. He raises it to me before he drinks it down. Cindy gives me an awkward grin and pats him on the knee.

Ah, geez. It’s not easy for my brother with all this, but I think we’ll get there? I think we can get this to be normal, eventually. It’ll just take some time.

Johnny might be playing it cool, but I can feel how his body relaxes now the cat’s out of the bag with his friends, and maybe even after the proper reveal to Bobby, and he hasn’t fooled me. He’s as relieved as I am that it went well.


	4. Forwards and Backwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the beautiful feedback! You're the best :D

“So you guys are okay, now, huh.”

Bobby says this to me in the kitchen, about an hour later. He’s pretty drunk, I notice, and I guess I kinda am, too.

The music coming from the living room has been turned up, and I came in here to get a break from it, although it’s not much quieter, really. I give the neighbors about another half hour at the most before they start calling up and demanding we turn it down.

Bobby’s sitting on a stool at the kitchen bench, and I wonder where Cindy is.

“What? Me and Johnny?”

“You and _Johnny_.” He’s just finished another beer, and he puts the cup down, hard, on the countertop.

I sit down next to him, puzzled. “Everything okay?”

He seems to consider this for a moment and then he turns in his seat to face me.

“You know what? No.”

Oh shit. And there go all the thoughts I’d just had that we we’d sorted it all out.

“Hey…”

“No. No ‘hey’. I saw you in there, all roses, and it’s bullshit. You had a fight already, didn’t you?” I look away, but not before he sees my shock that he knows about that.

“It wasn’t a fight,” I say defensively.

“Oh, c’mon. You wouldn’t talk to him for days. You don’t honestly think I missed that, living here, do you? Who the hell do you think was writing the messages?”

I shrug. “Not like it’s any of your business, but it was a mix up. Everything’s fine now.”

“Right, until next time. That’s just great, Kimmy! Tell me, please. Tell me you know this is a bad idea.”

I don’t get what the fuck is with the possessive brother act, all of a sudden, but it riles me right up. I assume he just can’t handle seeing us in front of his face for the first time, but that’s just too bad. He’s gonna need to get over that, real quick.

When he grabs another beer from the fridge, I snatch it from him and drain about a quarter of it in one go.

Then I glare at him. “How dare you?”

“How dare _I?”_ he says, outraged.

“Yes, this is none of your business. Stay out of it.” More beer. That’s what I need, I need the alcohol to give me an excuse to be this mad at my brother.

“You’re gonna get hurt-”

“I won’t!”

“You guys already had a fight, and it’s been what, a month? Come _on_ -”

“Stay the fuck out of this. I’m old enough to know what I’m doing!” Bobby snorts, which makes me see red. I growl, “Seriously, fuck you. I know it’s probably weird for you to see us, or whatever, but it’s not like we even _did_ anything! So much for sparing your feelings!”

“Shut up!” he yells at me, and I think the only reason we haven’t drawn an audience is because that music is just so _loud._

It’s a good thing Johnny is way off in the other room.

Bobby gives me a disparaging look. “I’m sure you’ve done _plenty_.” He spits the words at me, and that’s it, I’m _done._

I shove him, as hard as I dare to without hurting him, and he stumbles backwards, catching himself before he can fall over.

“What is your _problem_?” he asks.

“ _You_!” I scream. “What, are you _jealous_ or something? Worried I’ll take Johnny away from you?”

His face crumples in anger, or maybe hurt, when I say that, but I press on.

I say viciously, “I can tell you what it’s like when he holds me, if you like. How much detail you want?” And then I know I’ve gone too far. _Way_ too far.

“Bobby-” I say immediately, reaching out for him, but it’s too late.

He’s pushing the back door open, and he’s outside.

I yell at the ceiling, my frustrated realisation that I have no choice but to follow. I run after him and call out, but he’s vanished. He’s stormed away somewhere.

In that moment, a few things click. He does cherish his friendship with Johnny, prizing it higher than most things, but it’s not _only_ that. Mostly, but not only.

My words were actually a little right, just a _little_ , I think, and I feel so sad for my brother now.

I can imagine him nursing a tiny, teeny, seed of confused longing, all through high school, and it making him feel lost: not knowing what to do about it, or how to deal with it. That poor stupid _idiot._ I’m not surprised he felt like he couldn’t tell me. Maybe he thought I already guessed it; maybe that’s why it hurt so much when I shouted it at him, as if I was throwing it in his face, to ridicule him.

Oh _Bobby._ I’m so sorry. I’d never do that.

*

Bobby spends the next few days being a total jerk to me, which I guess isn’t surprising, because how _else_ is he gonna handle it?

But I get sick of it, real quick, and I can’t help sniping back. Shit. Our parents return from their short trip, and they try to play peacemakers, as if we’re little kids. Their interfering makes it worse, if anything, since neither of us will tell them what the problem is.

I have no idea how we’re gonna work this out.

*

When Bobby next comes in to ride my ass, I’m in the living room, trying to watch Santa Barbara.

He stands there with his arms crossed, glaring at me, and I’m instantly irritated, knowing he’s not gonna leave until I engage.

I flick the remote at the TV and then throw it down on the sofa. “What?” I demand.

“You know what.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it, okay?”

“Sure, whatever.”

“Fine. I said I apologised. I’m sorry if that’s not enough for you -”

“Kimmy, it’s not that!” he shouts at me, which causes Dad to call out from upstairs.

“Bobby? Everything okay?”

“Fine, Dad. Sorry, just dropped something.”

“Alright,” calls his voice.

Bobby steps a little closer so he can keep on yelling at me, but it’s more like whisper yelling, now.

“It’s not about what you _said.”_

“Oh yeah?” I reply angrily. “What is it, then?”

“You know what happened after Ali broke up with him?”

Oh, I just love how everyone keeps bringing _her_ name up.

“I don’t plan to break up with him.”

“That’s not what I mean!” He scowls at me, and he’s working up to shouting again now. “After they ended, there was so much drama. Friends were taking sides - now there’s people I can’t talk to, cos apparently they are mad at Johnny about the argument at the beach _still_ , even though it’s been what, a year?” He throws his hands up in disgust. “What am I supposed to do, huh? If _you guys_ break up?”

I hadn’t thought of that, hadn’t for one second, and I stare at him horrified.

“Am I supposed to choose between my sister and my best friend?” He’s not yelling anymore. All of a sudden, he looks sad.

_How did I miss this?_

I climb up out of my seat and go up to him, even though he tries to back away, still looking mad. I won’t have it, and I lean my head on his shoulder, pushing against him a bit. My brother, my dear brother.

I know how much he cares about Johnny, and yet he put my name first in that equation. From Bobby, that means everything.

He doesn’t push me away, and I’ve come up here like this because I know it’ll be easier for us to talk if we don’t have to make eye contact. “I’m really sorry. Bobby, I’m sorry. I… I hate to say it but I didn’t think about that, before.”

“Obviously,” he mutters testily.

“I guess I’m getting caught up in him.”

“Girls do,” he says, with a trace of bitterness, or maybe it’s jealousy. “I’ve seen it many times.”

Ouch, that _stings_. I know Bobby’s trying to hurt me - he lashes out when he’s hurt bad – and I try to think that I can’t really blame him, but it pricks me.

I bite back, equally bitter, “Guess I’m just the next in line, then,” before wishing I hadn’t.

He makes this rueful kind of groan, and rests his head sideways against mine, so his cheek is touching the top of my head. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean that.” He slips his arm around my waist, hugging me to him.

My eyes are wet, and I’m a little ashamed about that, because I’m really an idiot, aren’t I? Bobby’s probably right. This whole thing is a disaster in waiting, because I should’ve known I couldn’t keep my heart out of it, not with Johnny. The insecurities I thought that I’d settled flood back.

“Kimmy, are you… hey, don’t cry. Don’t cry.”

I think he’s kinda embarrassed now, but he comes in front to hug me properly, and I thank god for my wonderful brother. He’s not teasing me; he’s running his hands comfortingly up and down on my back, and he just stands there for me, with me. I wonder when he got so grown up.

Eventually, Bobby speaks gently in my ear. “You’re wrong, you know.”

“Huh?” I ask, having lost any train of thought other than that I’m dumb enough to get my heart broken.

I feel him breathe in and out, and he takes a while to answer. “Johnny likes you.”

I give a little snort. “Well, duh, but it’s not like-”

“Yeah, it _is_ ,” Bobby tells me and he’s softly letting me go now, stepping backwards. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, until he crosses his arms and looks at me uncomfortably. “He’s been Mr Heartbreaker this year, but not anymore. I know him, and I know that he’s being different with you.”

_Bobby, stop. You gotta stop telling me what I want to hear, I want it too much…_

And then he says even more. “He’s being exactly like he was with Ali.” He looks so pained to be having this talk with me, and I kinda feel it too, like I wish the ground would swallow me up.

“How do you kn-” I begin, before realising that’s a stupid question, and try to think of a different one.

Bobby just nods at me. “He _is_ , that’s it. Except he’s older now, and he’s being less of a dick to you.”

This forces a small laugh from me, a groggy sound from my cried-out body. My heart is racing with hope, even though I keep trying to push it down, temper my acceptance of what Bobby said. It seems like it could be real dangerous to believe, because he might have it wrong.

He squeezes his eyes closed and grimaces. “Ugh. I’m gonna kill you, Kimmy, and I’m gonna do it slowly. Making me say all this shit? How _could_ you?”

He gives me a wounded, dismayed look, and I grin helplessly.

There’s a lot more I need to say to make things with my brother okay, I know, and to pay him back for this, for being perfect. I’ll start by making him a milkshake, and then maybe we can talk some more.

*

Dating Johnny, currently the favorite part of my life, has a big hurdle to face when summer ends.

Luckily we don’t have too much prep to do, since neither of us have to live on campus, but there’s no flinching from the knowledge that we aren’t gonna be able to hang out every other day anymore. He doesn’t seem too bothered about college starting (even though I think it’d be good for him if he was a _little more_ bothered), and I want to ask him if he thinks we can still make it work, us.

I don’t, of course.

The start of semester is okay, although I count the days until the first weekend, when I’m getting some time with him, Sunday.

We end up talking for hours that night: about our classes, rating our teachers, talking about people we met, about how he’ll never change his mind about how stupid pledging is (I agree).

We’re actually in his bedroom, because it was his house that was empty tonight, not mine. I made him promise me that there was zero chance of Sid being here, but apparently they are away, so lucky us.

He talks about sports teams, as a maybe, and that his courses seem pretty achievable. I’m excited for him, that he’s settled in right away, and I realise I had been actually pretty anxious about that. I know that if he can make this work, it’ll give him structure for the next year. That’ll be good for him; it’s been missing.

Johnny’s got a really nice room, much nicer than mine, and I think I’m in love with his dark grey satin sheets. I’ve been lying on them since we got here, pretty much, and he’s teased me once or twice because I keep on running my hands over them.

We’ve been fooling around a bit, but weirdly, we didn’t go right to the main event. We’ve been here for ages, just talking, mostly. I can’t tell him I missed him this week, that saying ‘hi’ in the quad wasn’t really enough, even if he did kiss me each time. Because I should be able to handle five days without him, right?

I’m such a lost cause. I gotta keep that inside as best I can, although there’s no way to be sure it’s working.

Johnny’s lying next to me, propped up on one elbow, while he draws slow circles on my stomach. The fact that I’m still wearing my dress, and all my underwear, must be a miracle, I guess.

“Hey?” he asks me softly.

“Yeah?”

“There’s, um – there’s something I wanna ask you. Something I wanna do, tonight.”

He’s got this little bit of nerves, something which I know I’m one of very few people he shows.

I nod, waiting for more.

“It’s probably easier if I show you,” he says hesitantly, and now I’m intrigued.

I’m smiling, starting to feel anticipation, because he gets up and turns his light down most of the way, makes it dim in here, and it’s a lovely effect. The dark timber and the navy curtains, and us on the four-poster bed; I know he’s setting a romantic scene, and it’s freaking _adorable._

He’s back, next to me. “What you gonna show me, Johnny?” I whisper, when he kisses my cheek, kisses along my neck.

“You’ll see,” he murmurs.

I run my finger under his chin, inviting him to me, and we kiss, long and slow.

He starts to pull my dress up, and I am doing the same with his t-shirt, running my fingers across his stomach.

When our clothing is gone, he tells me he wants me up, resting back against his pillows.

I give him a nervous smile, replaced with longing, when I see him gazing down at my body. He comes to kneel between my legs, and he places a hand on each of my knees.

“I want you to do something for me.”

“You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific,” I suggest.

He looks at me for a second, his body tempting my attention, but I focus on his face until he speaks. “You can say no, of course. Totally up to you.”

“Should I be worried?”

He smiles slightly. “No… it’s just we haven’t done this.”

“This?”

He sighs. “I want you to…”

He closes his eyes briefly, and then shuffles a little closer to me, picking up one of my hands. He cradles it for a second, and then places it down, palm down, onto my body, down _there._

“You are so beautiful. You know how much I like to – to be with you, right?”

“Yeah, I noticed…?” I’m not getting it, yet.

“I want you to do this for me.” When I just look at him, blankly, he pushes gently down on my hand.

“Please?”

When it dawns on me what he means, I am _mortified._

“Johnny! I can’t do that -”

“Please, Kim, for me?”

I’m quickly shaking my head, pulling my hand away, and wanting to bury my face in his pillows. I’m not sure there’s anything more embarrassing he could have asked me.

“I’m not gonna force you,” he says quickly. “It’s – it’s okay if you don’t want to. If you can’t.”

I’ve got my eyes closed, tight. “Well, I can’t.”

He waits for me to look at him again, and he’s being really tender when he speaks.

“I just thought… I’d like to see what you like. I want it – when we do this – to be good for you. To be great.” He’s still giving me that look, and I can see the plea in his eyes. “I want that for you. And if you let me watch you… then I… I can learn.”

I stutter out the breath I’ve been holding, still embarrassed, but so _torn_. It’s just so hard to say no to Johnny. Maybe it’s impossible, I don’t know. And I think it might have cost a lot for him to admit he doesn’t know everything about something like _this_. Even to me, who is trusted to see a weakness, occasionally.

But _this_?

“Johnny, when we….” I say, in a small voice. I shake my head. “It’s amazing. Every time.”

He smiles a little, but I can tell it’s not what he wanted. “Please? Do you trust me?” The full force of those mesmeric eyes is on me, and I can’t hope to compete.

“Yeah.”

“Can we try it?” he says gently. “If it’s too uncomfortable, you can stop, I won’t mind.”

“What will you do? If I say yes – if I do what you said…”

Johnny closes his eyes and sighs with longing, and then he looks at me, eyes full of sin.

“I’ll die, maybe.”

That forces me to smile, although I bite it back. “And?” I suggest.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to do. I can… I can watch you, or I can… I can help you?”

This is starting to sound a little bit better.

“Ugh, fine!” I say, and shove him playfully. I’m willing to give it a shot, if it matters so much to him. He’s obviously a lot more perceptive than I gave him credit for, because I didn’t know he’d noticed the finer details of whether I, _you know_ , each time or not. For the record, it did happen twice, after that first time, and it was _mind-blowing._

His smile gets a loaded edge to it, sexual, _lovely_ , and he’s picking up my hand again.

“That’s my girl.”

Again, my body responds to his praise on some foundational, inevitable level, and I might _die now._

I close my eyes, knowing I can’t look at him when I start this. I let the pressure from his hand start it off, still not believing I’m letting anyone see me do this.

My middle finger is the one I prefer, and so I start to run it along my body there, and he lifts his hand away.

“Back, please,” I murmur self-consciously, thinking that I can manage this, maybe, if I can pretend it’s him touching me.

He covers my hand with his warm one again, and follows me as I move.

“Thank you,” I hear him say softly, although there’s a strain in his voice. “You look so incredible right now.”

I open one eye just enough to see what he’s doing. He’s staring intently at me, at where our hands are, his jaw wired in a tight clench of desire. It gives me a little confidence.

As far as learning goes, I don’t know what to do to help. I mean, there’s simply no way I can _narrate_ this for him; I can’t say that I like it to start outside, but not too hard, and then mostly inside, in the spot I am starting to touch now.

I make a small moan, getting turned on in spite of the new situation right now, and I hear him echo me.

My eyes fly to his, and my _god,_ he _wants_ me, doesn’t he?

“So beautiful,” he says, “you’re killing me…”

 _This was your idea,_ I think happily, but I now I know it’s an amazing idea. We should have done this sooner.

The way he’s sitting now, his body is touching mine a little, and I realise that he is pressing into my thigh with his hardness. I look there, and my lust coalesces inside me.

The need starts to build. His hand joins mine properly again, touching me softly on the outside where I am hypersensitive. “Like this?” he asks, urgently looking between my eyes.

“Yeah…”

I let him take over, because what he’s doing feels amazing, perfect, and I just want to lie there and experience it.

He kisses my knee, one kiss each time I moan quietly, and he starts to mouth down my thigh.

His fingers feel so incredible, that I don’t notice until it’s nearly too late, until his lips are about to move to where his hand is, and I am thrown off completely.

“Johnny, you don’t have to…” I shrink away, knowing that guys don’t really like to do that anywhere near as much as they like it when girls do it to them.

His desperate whisper coaxes, “Please. _Please_ let me, I need to do this for you.”

He’s put a finger inside me, touching the exact place where I’ve been touching, and I moan.

I want to say yes, _badly_ , but it’s hard, it’s embarrassing to admit I’d love him to do that to me. When I don’t say anything, he kisses me there just once, just softly, and then waits, but my hips rise off the bed without my permission and I cry out.

He kisses me again, and I’m just going to have to let him.

I’m _lost._

His mouth is on me, he’s slowly licking me, and the insistence for relief aches all through my body. He knows I’m not gonna want it fast, cos I never do, that won’t help me. He’s moving his finger too, pressing hard enough inside, and he’s worked _every single thing_ out.

My fists are clutching his sheets, my body arches to him, taking every caress, and I feel the wave of need building strong and tight under his mouth. I’m never going to be able to forget the picture of his face being there, the way he’s looking up at me like he loves watching me while he does this.

His other hand slides up across my thigh to hold my leg down, to open me to him, and I prepare for what I know is going to be the best orgasm I have ever had.

He groans against my skin, somehow finding pleasure of his own, and the tension locks up inside me. I’m on that cliff for maybe five seconds, six, feeling everything he’s doing to me with his tongue, and inside. And then I release, and cry out his name, just about _cry,_ as I shake under him.

The timing is perfect when he climbs up my body, looking a question at me, and I’m nodding in a daze. He slides into me and starts to take me against the headboard, rocking into me, and drawing out more sensations.

He doesn’t last anywhere near as long as usual, and I feel his back, his arms, as much of him as I can when he goes tight and starts to groan into my neck.

 _I love you,_ I realise, and for some reason, it’s tinged with sadness.


	5. Teacher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, reviewing, Kudos and bookmarking. Every single one gives me life!
> 
> Mr Miyagi, as played by Pat Morita, is a character who speaks in a certain stereotypical way, which may be a problematic thing, and might be considered offensive to some. It would surely be done pretty different if the movie was written and filmed now. That being said, it didn’t really feel like his character in this story, without following that pattern of speech.

One afternoon a week or so later, I have no late classes, and I want to get Dad something good for his office, for his birthday. So I’m strolling along one of the strips, window shopping. At the end there’s this new business I haven’t seen before, in this block that’s been empty for years.

I’m about to turn back and give up, but I notice an OPEN sign on the door, and an old man inside, bending over some pot plants, and it catches my eye. It’s like a cool Asian business, selling plants, I think, so I decide I may as well go inside.

“Um, hi,” I say, as the man turns to me. “Are you open yet?”

He notes me looking around at the mess – boxes and bits of wood everywhere, bags of soil, and a few tidy shelves with these little plants on them.

He smiles and bows to me. “Yes, shop open. Customer very welcome.”

He’s got this infectious way about him, these sweet old eyes, and I do a tiny bow back to him to be polite. I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before.

“Great,” I say. “I wanna get something for my dad.” I’m already looking at one of the pots, and I realise it’s like a tiny tree, it’s crazy. “Gosh, he’d love these! How you get them so small?”

“Cut here, clip there, prune tree. Tree grow strong, healthy, but small. Bonsai tree. From Japan. Very good present.”

“You’re telling me. They’re beautiful!” I gush, and I don’t even know how I’m gonna pick one. They’re all so adorable.

“Miyagi say thank you. Please, pick favorite.”

“I don’t know how… maybe I’ll just buy ‘em all.”

I give him the hugest smile, and we talk for a little bit. He tells me how to teach my dad about looking after the tree, explaining that they only need water when the soil becomes dry, and talking about fertiliser, which he can give me some of when I buy the tree.

“Are you from Japan?” I ask.

“Long time ago.”

“They have a lot of these trees there? These… bonsai?”

The lines by his eyes crinkle deeply when he smiles. “Most beautiful bonsai in world. Many write poem about.”

“Sounds like I’ll have to go there one day,” I tell him. He starts acting like my travel agent after that, giving me tips, and he’s got a great sense of humour.

I settle on a tree in a blue pot, and we head to the cash register to finish up. It’s a real old relic he’s got set up on of the few clear surfaces in the shop.

“Hey, Mr Miyagi, look what I found!” A loud voice calls, and I can see the back door of the shop swinging open. “Maybe we can grow giant bonsai.” He laughs. “It can be a new thing. An exclusive product for us.”

Daniel comes in, and he’s carrying this huge pot. I notice him before he sees me, and I cringe, but there’s no escape.

“So what do you – oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise we had a… customer.”

The last word is said flatly. His chipper face falls about a mile when he sees me standing here.

He shakes his head, and says sourly, “We don’t want any trouble here. So if Johnny sent you in to -”

Before I can say a word, the old man’s voice cracks like a whip. “Daniel-san!”

He turns harsh eyes on Daniel, and I get why Daniel looks terrified to be scolded by the man. “You are being rude to customer.”

“No, no, wait, Mr Miyagi, I can explain. This girl is -”

Again he is cut off. “Young lady here for buy present for father. Want bonsai tree. We sell bonsai tree. This how shop function, you agree?”

Daniel throws his hands up. “Of course, yes, but I’m just saying we can be selective about our clientele. She’s going with Johnny Lawrence. You remember _him_ , Mr Miyagi.”

Miyagi looks sadly at Daniel, and _man_ , that disappointment is a weapon. I’ve remembered now, of course: he’s the sensei from the tournament.

I’ve heard a lot about this man. The guys have got him totally, astoundingly wrong, but that’s not surprising, given everything that was going on last year, and the Halloween fight and everything. But I completely understand why he stepped in to protect Johnny in December, now, even after all the run-ins leading up. Johnny has always changed the subject in that conversation, in the few times I tried to bring it up.

“Miyagi not forget _anything,_ Daniel-san.”

He’s got this intense look; it’s _crazy._ “Maybe _you_ forget. Try remember instead.”

All three of us know what he’s referring to, and the moment couldn’t be more awkward, for me, at least. “I’m really sorry,” I begin, “I didn’t mean to…”

“Oh _sure_ ,” Daniel says dramatically, barely regarding me, still trying to change the old man’s mind. “Why you gotta bring that up? I remember plenty. _No mercy._ She’s with the _enemy -”_

Miyagi claps his hands to his sides and gives me a deep bow. “Please, accept apology. Boy not understand. Boy think war create winner, when it make only losers. Miyagi apologise for boy rudeness, and hope father like bonsai. Please take, no payment necessary.”

“Oh _no!_ ” I say immediately. “You can’t do that.”

He makes this strange little tut-tut-tut sound and brings a hand down fast in front of himself, like a chop. “ _No payment_ ,” he says to me, and it’s like flint. “Maybe _other_ boy not forget lesson learned. Maybe you help teach, like Miyagi.” He stares at me meaningfully, but I already get his drift.

I’ve never in my life met anyone like this man, someone who could have an impact on you five minutes after you met.

“Thank you,” I say, and I hope my expression conveys more to him, because I can’t say anything else; Daniel is standing there with his arms crossed, watching sullenly, muttering under his breath.

I bow again, although I probably did it wrong, and I leave with my dad’s tree.

*

I’m _bitter._ What did Daniel ever do to deserve that sensei, while Bobby and Johnny, and the others, got stuck with a lowlife psychopath? For _years._

I know the personalities would never have worked out, but I can’t help but think of what a difference a kind hand of guidance would have made to the Cobra Kais.

It’s all just so unfair.

*

Bobby, Dutch, Johnny and I are eating at Denny’s over on Sepulveda. Those of us at college have had a killer few weeks of papers due, but the pressure’s off for a bit, now, which is nice.

“Where’s Cindy?” I ask Bobby, when I lean over to steal some of his fries.

Dutch chuckles. “You gotta keep up, Kimmy. Cindy’s last week’s news. The drama. Seems she got into it with -”

And he cuts off so suddenly, we all know he was about to say ‘Ali’, so he might as well have just said it.

I scoff and peer at my brother. “You’re not telling me she dumped you?”

“Nah,” Bobby says, looking down, “but it got complicated. Apparently I’m _bad news_ , so when word got out about us, it was just…” He shrugs, but there’s tightness around his eyes. “Too much trouble for me.”

He says this lightly, playing it off while he takes another onion ring from my plate, but I see through it right away. It’s not necessarily a big loss in terms of a girlfriend (although I can’t tell that for sure, yet), but the idea of anyone thinking that Bobby is no good is patently eating him up inside. It makes my blood boil.

“You coulda _told_ me,” I chide, through clenched teeth, but he gives me an awkward shrug, so I know I need to drop this, until his friends aren’t around.

“Plenty of fish in the sea, right?” Dutch says, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Johnny says, to them. “I’ve been thinking. We should fight.”

It takes about two seconds of them looking at him, which I use to try to digest the meaning of such a puzzling statement (which surely can’t be on face value), and then they are grinning at him like total lunatics.

“My _man_ ,” says Dutch, and from Bobby, it’s a “ _Fuck_ , yes!”

“Any idea where?” Bobby asks. “Hey - there’s an old empty gym over on…”

Ah. _Karate._

They start making all sorts of plans, and Bobby’s like a dizzy schoolboy. I realise with a pang that, at least as far as I know, his last fight was the one with Daniel.

A disqualification, and hurting someone on purpose, which will always be his life’s biggest regret. It’s no way to end a karate career like his, and I’m just so happy for him, and for Johnny. All the guys. The others will go _crazy_ when they hear.

It seems like something they could have done ages ago, really, and I doubt it took them this long to realise they were allowed to do karate without their old sensei, but maybe they needed time to heal.

More likely, they needed Johnny.

It had to be _him_ saying ‘go’, him being ready, again. None of them would want to do it without Johnny.

I don’t believe you can summon the devil, but maybe I’m wrong, because of all people in LA, it’s John Kreese who walks up to our table, ten minutes later.

He crosses his arms, shaking his head and frowning scornfully down at our booth. “Would you look at this, now.” He narrows his eyes at each boy in turn, and gives me a brief and dismissive sneer. Johnny gets the longest long look of disgust.

“A bunch of losers, slacking up the place.”

“You’re insane,” Johnny says, and it’s pure ice. “I thought I told you to leave us alone.”

“Oh, you _did_?” Kreese mocks. “Mustn’t have made any impression on me. So, what are you doing now to keep busy, boys?” They all glare at him, although Dutch can’t hold it for long, breaking to look down at his hands. “Knitting? _Gymnastics?”_

Poor Bobby; his cheeks are red with anger, and he tries his best to sound firm, like Johnny, and not afraid. “Get away from us, you sick creep. You’ve done enough.”

“I disagree. Clearly I didn’t do enough, for any of you. I thought you could _be_ something… thought I could make real men out of you.” Once again, it’s Johnny who he’s looking at. “But I was wrong. You’re _nothing_.”

“Fuck. _You_ ,” Johnny says, quietly, dangerously, and I can see his body is tense, primed like a spring, as if he might leap up out of the booth at a second’s notice.

Dutch isn’t saying anything, which really irritates me, but maybe he’s scared. I admit _I_ am. I stare up at the leering face of this creep who did so much damage to young men, who taught them to do it to others.

I speak. “They asked you to leave.” I can say it because I’m reasonably certain he won’t hit me or anything, although with the way his muscles flex under that black t-shirt, I’m not entirely sure.

“I don’t believe anyone was talking to _you_ , miss,” he says harshly. He narrows his eyes. “I remember you… you’re the sister. I got to tell you, your brother’s a bit squeamish. Doesn’t like to do what needs to be done.” This is followed with a smile of startling cruelty.

“There’s _nothing_ wrong with my brother,” I say, rage creeping into my voice. “Or with Johnny. He’s more of a man than you’ll _ever_ be.” I give him a disparaging look.

I hear Bobby’s intake of breath. The rage is fuelling my courage, and my protective instincts about Johnny and my brother scream at me to ignore the danger to myself, even though I feel Johnny’s hand gripping my arm, trying to shush me.

He leaves his hand there, and Kreese notices the guarding gesture. “Huh,” he says, and glances at Bobby. Then he scoffs, “Well, _that_ figures.”

He leans over me, a finger in my face, and begins to speak menacingly, his breath rank with soured alcohol. “Now you listen here -” and of course that’s all it takes for Bobby to launch out of his seat, flying at his former sensei.

Johnny takes longer to get out; he has to push himself up and climb over the table, sending everything flying. Empty plates clatter to the floor, shattering on the tiles; our sodas go flying, my Sprite hits my chest with a cold rush. Kreese has enough time to punch Bobby, hard, up under his ribs. My brother howls in pain.

Johnny’s punch lands square on that evil face, and then he ducks one that flies back at him. But he misses the second one that drives up into his side, and he grunts in rage and throws his leg up, but Kreese blocks. Then three servers are shouting at them all to break it up, and a customer is yelling at someone to call the police.

Dutch stands, finally, and a big man from the next booth over seems to know who the source of the trouble is, because he and two friends get up and tap Kreese on the shoulder, and he quickly sees he’s outnumbered.

He makes a conciliatory gesture at them. “Alright, alright.”

He waits until they sit back down, and then looks at us with such scorn. He grabs Johnny by the scruff of his neck, getting in his face, and pushes him backwards into the table before anyone can intervene. The edge of the table catches Johnny in the middle of his back, and he cries out painfully, losing his balance.

“You better watch out, Mr Lawrence. This isn’t finished.”

The look on Johnny’s face, as Kreese sneers down at him derisively, is going to haunt me forever. It’s heartbreak, it’s betrayal, and Johnny’s anger with himself, his shame, that this psycho’s words still hurt. It’s pure _brokenness._

Kreese storms out.

We spend some time apologising to the staff and the manager. I do most of the talking; the boys nurse their hurts. Dutch can’t handle the situation, and he takes off.

When the other customers back up our story, we don’t even have to leave any money behind for the broken plates or the mess.

Johnny comes home with us, and I go and grab our first aid kit, tiptoeing back downstairs to the kitchen so I don’t wake Mom and Dad.

Bobby has a huge red mark on his chest, or more like his abdomen. It’s already turning purple, but he says it’s alright, and given how many injuries he’s had, I’m gonna have to assume he knows what he’s talking about. He wants some ice from the freezer, and I notice him wincing when he gets down off the counter.

Johnny’s not in a lot of pain, or if he is, he’s hiding it well. I get him to take his shirt all the way off so I can get a look. He takes some ice from me for that ugly bruise blooming on the side of his ribs, but he’s got a laceration on his back, too: the skin split open, and a bit of blood that smudged onto his shirt.

“Shit,” I say when I get a closer look. “This might need stitches.”

“It’s fine,” he argues, although he swears when I dab some iodine along the cut.

“I dunno, Johnny. It’s big.”

“Just put some plaster on there. It’ll close over.”

I shake my head, knowing I’m not going to win this argument, not tonight, at least.

He hisses as I finish up, and gingerly pulls his shirt back over his head.

The three of us, in mutual, silent agreement, grab a carton of beers and head out to sit by the pool. On second thoughts, I grab Bobby’s stash on the way out; he keeps in at the back of the tinned goods cupboard, amongst stuff that’s like eight years old.

There’s a light we can put on out here, and Mom and Dad’s room is over the other side of the house, so I doubt we’ll wake them.

We all sit down on the one lounge, Johnny behind me, with me sitting inside his legs, and Bobby facing us. I fix the joints in silence, and we smoke them for a while, one at a time as we pass them back and forth, welcoming the relief that comes when the edge gets taken off.

“That was fucked up,” I say.

“Yeah,” Bobby agrees bitterly. “Like everything _else_ about that man.”

I squeeze his knee, and lean back against Johnny, who puts an arm around my chest, hugging me to him.

“What are we gonna do?”

“You’re not gonna do anything,” Johnny tells me from over my shoulder, and Bobby agrees.

“Oh, so I’m just gonna let him hurt you? For god’s sake, he could _kill_ one of you!”

“I don’t even understand why he’s _back,”_ Bobby says plaintively. “I thought he vanished. Thought he was long gone.”

“Yeah well, a rat like that’s always gonna come creeping back,” Johnny says.

I can see Bobby looking at him, processing, and I know those two are gonna form some stupid plan, and not let me know anything about it. They’ve already started. It makes me so scared, so angry, that I want to hurt them myself.

“If you guys go after him, I will never speak to either of you again.”

I say this as coldly as I can, but I don’t mean any of the words in it. I’m practically shaking with fear, because I don’t know how far Kreese is willing to go to get his sick revenge. I doubt he’s got a limit.

Johnny pushes his face against me, breathing a deep breath onto my cheek, and tightens the arm around me so I have to be inside his tight hug.

Bobby just picks at the hem of his jeans. “It’s not that easy, Kimmy. We gotta do _something._ ”

“Strike first is _bullshit.”_

“Maybe most of it was bullshit,” says the voice by my ear, “but Bobby’s right.” He relaxes his grip on me and I turn to look at him. “We’re not gonna go after him, alright?” he tells me seriously. He glances at Bobby, and I can see a nod of agreement.

“You’d better not,” I warn.

“We won’t. But you understand we have to be ready for him. Right?”

I bite my lip, frowning at the ground.

Bobby backs him up. “We’re not gonna do anything stupid, I promise. But we gotta start training again.”

“Just in case,” Johnny agrees.

I can see their point.

*

The former Cobra Kais take up karate, after ten months without it. Almost immediately, it is an all-consuming thing in their lives.

I know it can’t be any other way, at least not for now, and I go with it.

It’s just the five of them; they’re going out both days on the weekends for a few hours, and three nights of the week. Then they add two early mornings, and I wonder how much this will spiral. It’s like watching addicts get back on stuff.

Sometimes Bobby is like he’s bouncing off the walls at home. He gushes to me about the sessions. Tommy’s the same, when we hang out, and if Johnny is more contained about it, I know he likes it just as much. I piece together that Johnny has started kind of leading their training, which makes perfect sense, and it seems to have brought such clarity to him that I have to thank some higher power.

I notice subtle changes in his body, too, which I am also _extremely_ thankful for, not that there had been any previous lack. And he’s become more intense about nearly everything since they started, even when it’s just him and me. I can’t work out whether I’m a little afraid of it.

I wondered if Johnny might join a group on campus, or find a dojo, but I’ve realised he wants everyone to be together, and maybe it’s too soon for them to do karate with anyone else. This way, they keep each other protected, safe from outsiders, from harm.

I can only hope they aren’t neglecting college, but they should be able to manage freshman year, I estimate.

*

I’m driving by Johnny’s old dojo one day, and the lights are on. I guess Kreese must be back there. Brainwashing the next class of Cobra Kais, and I wish like hell I could do something to stop it.

I slow down, not wanting him to see me if he happens to look out the window, unable to stop myself. But, looking inside, my blood goes cold.

I just can’t make any sense of what I’m seeing in there. It’s _Daniel._ He’s the only one in the room, the only student, and the man with him isn’t Kreese, it’s someone tall, with dark hair and a pony tail.

What the _hell?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two chapters to go now!
> 
> Thanks again for reading :D


	6. Cobra Kai Never Dies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted chapters a day apart, so make sure you didn't miss chapter 5 :)
> 
> Please enjoy, and thank you for reading

October’s past, and nothing else has happened, thank god, and I decide I made the right decision not to tell either of them what I saw.

The main thing is, Kreese is gone, again, and hopefully it stays that way. There’s some weird rumour he had a heart attack and died, but it sounds like wishful thinking. That would be way too convenient.

When I finally get to watch them sparring, I realise just how much I’m missing, although at the same time, I know it’s not for me.

I drop Bobby off one day, and the guys are all waiting for him in the carpark, with their gym bags on their shoulders. When I pull into a space, I wind the window down because Johnny’s coming over to give me a kiss.

“Hey,” he says, smiling. “You’ll come back in a few hours?”

“Sure. See you then.”

He goes to stand with the guys on the veranda in front of where they train, and Bobby’s getting out, but then he turns back to me. He puts his hands up on the edge of the door, holding where his window has gone down nearly all the way inside. “Hey. You should come in and watch.”

“I dunno,” I say, looking around at the guys. “I don’t wanna be in the way or anything.”

Jimmy says instantly, “You won’t be in the way.” He’s got this friendly smile, inviting.

“Yeah, come and see the show,” Tommy agrees, and I grin.

“Okay, sure. Why not?”

They all go on ahead; Johnny is fishing for a key, and Bobby follows after, but not before I shoot him my silent thanks.

He knew it would be way too uncool for Johnny to ask his girlfriend inside, knew he just wouldn’t ever do it. He also knew I was dying to be at least a small part of this with them (with how things are changing, with how I’m better friends with them all, now). And of course he knew I’d love to see Johnny back in the right habitat. Bobby knew the only way it would happen was if he asked me casually like that, as if he’d just thought of it on the spur of the moment, which I’m sure he did not.

He’s a lot smarter than most people realise, and I love that kid with all my heart.

They’re all wearing plain white gis. The four of them stand in front of Johnny, in one neat row across the room, and he warms them up.

They follow him unquestioningly. I sit right in the back, certain not to distract anyone’s attention. Johnny’s calling out harsh commands to kick, to punch, and they are calling back their gruff answers, moving in time to some unheard beat only they can hear. Call, response.

I’m completely rapt as I watch. He summons them first as a group, in unison, and then individually by name to do a front kick, a round kick, a jumping side kick.

Step through punch, elbow strike, double punch. Blocks. 

And then they sit along the side of the mat. “Dutch. Jimmy. Up. Combat.” He instructs, and they leap up off their knees, landing on their feet, in fluid movements.

“Bow,” he calls, and then, “ _fight_ ,” as his hand lowers between them. He’s stepping back, and Jimmy and Dutch start to circle each other.

Johnny is so at home right now, I just can’t _describe_ it, the way this fits. I realise with a shock that this is what he needs to do. With his life, I mean.

It’s about as clear as a hit to the head. Of course, I won’t say anything. He’ll work it out for himself, given time. Maybe he already is.

Dutch is all about aggressive attack, and since he’s stronger, physically, and to be frank, _scary,_ Jimmy’s best move is nimble dodges, timing his strikes right to nip in and then back out of Dutch’s reach.

Johnny calls the points each time, and they’re going to three, like a match: first to Jimmy, two to Dutch, and then Jimmy takes Dutch’s legs out from underneath him, and chops down on his chest.

But the match goes to Dutch, and then Tommy’s match goes to Bobby. I notice how precise every single one of them are: there is such power in their contact, and yet none of the moves inflict pain, nothing lasting, when they so easily _could_. They know exactly what to put into each strike, to take their opponent down, but not hurt them. Not here, not today.

They are all something special. They’ve earned the black belts on their gis.

I just know that, if Johnny hadn’t been around, Bobby woulda been the champ. Dutch too, I think, and maybe any of them could’ve been with time. They are _incredible,_ and it’s only in Johnny’s light, that blinding brightness, that their skills find any kind of shadow cast on them. Watching them, I wonder if they are going to find a sensei to follow again, or whether this might not be the best way they could do karate, given their shared history.

Maybe they already found one.

Johnny faces off in fights with each of them in turn. I can tell they give it everything they’ve got, but one after another, they are hit by his driving punch, by hand strikes, or they are swept onto the mat, sometimes shouting in frustration, but never taking long before they flip back to their feet and look for more.

Johnny’s feet move so fast, he’s so _light_ on them; they take him into any gaps left for him to exploit, his hands finding every target he sees, his face intense, his hair dark and damp with sweat.

He takes on Tommy and Dutch together, and he does take one fall then; he engages with Dutch to block his rapid uppercut and double punch, but Tommy jumps sideways and loops around Johnny’s body with both legs, laying him out, and Dutch and Tommy start to crow.

“Well done,” Johnny tells them, flipping back up, although it’s about ten seconds later that first Dutch, and then Tommy are on the mat instead, victims to high kicks which shove them off balance.

Johnny spends an extended time training Bobby one-on-one, and the other three watch, listening as Johnny points out where my brother leaves an opening, when he should block with his elbow and when with open palm, where he fails so see an opportunity, the minor details in how he should correct his stances. Johnny stints praise, only giving it when it’s truly earned, knowing correctly that the guys crave it from him, and will do anything to try to get it. I know the exact feeling.

But in his harshness, he is never cruel, never hurts them. Never shames them. He only pushes them, the way they want and need him to.

Dutch has to work on a series of high kicks, where he touches a hand to the mat in between, to pivot. He must do about forty of them before Johnny gives him even one word of approval.

But then, it turns into a flip kick, next. Soon enough, Dutch is spinning across the mat like a hurricane, and Johnny is blocking, moving, but eventually Dutch manages to connect, hard, knocking him backwards, and the cheers go up. Dutch’s face is painfully proud as he looks to Johnny, knowing he’s impressed him.

Johnny works them hard, until they are out of breath and out of energy, but none of them ask for a break.

*

Bobby takes my car home, because I decide to get a lift with Johnny afterwards.

The others have already left, and when Johnny’s finished stacking the mats up, he’s about to head into the change room.

“Don’t.”

He turns to me, sweat-damp hair, the pink flush of exertion in his cheeks. I’m standing halfway across the room, and I’m as tense as a string. He’d have to be able to see that, I guess.

My eyes flick down to his gi for a second. His lips come together with a smile of smug recognition. He stares at me, and it’s harder for me to imagine a purer form of sexuality than his body, his form right now.

His voice is a low utterance. “There’s no one at home for about the next hour.”

I answer hoarsely, “What the fuck are we still doing _here_?”

As he drives us away, I don’t say anything else of what I think about what I just saw, about the lesson itself; I _can’t._ That will have to happen later, after we’ve dealt with _this_ , and besides, I’ve got to focus on keeping my hands agonisingly to myself until we drive the few short blocks to his house.

By that cocky smile on the corner of his mouth, I’d say Johnny has a fair idea of what I’m going through over here.

The gym bag is dumped, forgotten inside by the front door, which Johnny picks me up and slams me against.

My legs lock tightly around him, and I desperately pull his mouth to me. I start to kiss him as deeply as I possibly can, whimpering in relief to be in his arms. I pull at the front of his uniform, loosening it so I can snake my hands inside to slide up to his chest and down to trace the feel of the muscles on his abdomen with my thumbs.

He’s still warm, his skin sheened with moisture all along his body, and I need to touch it, touch every single _part._

“Is there a shower?” I breathe out, in the instants between kisses. “On the ground floor?”

He smirks with pure sin, tightens his grip under my thighs and takes my weight back onto him. He turns me and starts walking me through the house.

I gaze down at him, lost in the way I feel about him. I tug my jacket down, and toss it away; he kicks his shoes off, and I unclip my sandals and then start on the buttons of my shirt.

I’m still going on that when he brings me into the shining bathroom, white tiles to the ceiling, windows, mirrors and monogrammed black towels everywhere, and when he sits me down on the marble vanity next to the basin, he takes over to finish the job. Then he’s pulling the cups of my bra down, and bending down to my skin.

I feel pressure from his mouth setting off my nerve endings, and I grasp frantically to start undoing his belt. The uniform falls open and my hands slide to squeeze his waist. He works at the button and zip of my jeans, his other hand palming my breast, licking and then rolling my nipple between thumb and finger, pinching _just_ enough while he watches me to make sure it’s what I want. My hissed breath turns into a moan that he do _more_ , and he starts to suck, hard, on the skin just above. It’s gonna leave a bruise, and I _need_ it to, god: maybe if I’m lucky he’ll mark my whole body.

The desire in me reaches an insistent, aching throb in my jeans, and I’m gritting out my words. “ _Fuck,_ yes…”

“If I’d known you’d react this way,” his murmur rumbles on my skin, his tongue licking a stripe along the redness he’s just made on me, “I would’ve invited you to the first lesson.”

“Please…” I beg, needing more, nothing enough.

He starts to kiss along my collarbone and up my neck, sucking there for a moment, causing pressure to cloud into my mind and my hand to rake through the back of his damp hair.

I’ve got to get the rest of these stupid clothes _out of the way,_ so I’m stripping the gi down his arms, and running my hands over every line of muscle from his shoulders and down. I reach for the sides of his pants and pull them down under his hips, but he takes hold of that idea for himself, starting to tug my jeans and panties down.

I quickly lift myself up on my hands, head resting back on the huge mirror, while he pulls them roughly down to my knees, using his foot to push them the rest of the way off.

He squats down in front of me and grabs my ankle, lifting my leg up so that he’s under my knee, before I can think that I was the one trying to get my hands on _him_ , but it’s too late because of what he starts to do, and what would the point be.

When his tongue presses flat onto my skin, I let out a keening sound that seems echoingly loud in the tiled room, and I see him grinning up at me, kissing me with more passion.

Before I know it, my fingers are digging into his shoulders, my hips moving in time with the finger he’s slipped inside.

“I don’t – I _can’t–”_ I protest, groaning as the white edges start to blur into the edges of my vision, and his finger strokes me firmly, knowingly, and lets me see him defile me with his tongue, over and over along my skin.

He hums against me, his eyes their most pure light blue in the bright light, and I give up. He owns me. Whether he knows it, whether he’s asked for it or not. Done deal.

I beg nonsense words, spiralling deeper into mindless pleasure from each movement.

But I don’t… I don’t _want_ the end, not _yet_ , I don’t want my edge taken off by myself, even if he’s told me a few times it’s his favorite thing to watch.

“Please,” I whimper helplessly, my fingers clutching ineffectually at him. “ _Shower_ …”

He gives a low chuckle and assents to move away, kissing me once on the inside of my thigh.

“You sure about that?” he asks, as he rises up and reaches back into the shower alcove, spinning the brass faucets, setting a stream going. “You seemed to be having a real good time there…”

I can only nod, catching my breath on the marble top, gasping in the disarray of my shirt and bra, watching as he peels his uniform the rest of the way off, and when I say, “Shouldn’t you fold –” he tosses it through the doorway, and I guess at least we won’t get it wet now.

“Do you have any idea how sexy you are?” he mutters as he picks me up again, still partly dressed, and walks me under the warm water. He props me against the wall with the water at his back.

How he can stand there and say that about _me,_ with that hair and those eyes, and the water starting to stream down over those shoulders like nothing’s even _happening_ makes me just _angry_ , and I’m pulling him in to kiss me before I can think about where his lips were just a moment ago.

If the way he groans into my mouth is anything to go by, it was a turn-on for him, so I go with it, finding it’s not really very different. The idea of it is painfully erotic, like everything that’s happened since we got in here, and I never knew I could like things to get so rough. At the right time, it’s _perfect._

After that kiss, he balances me on his hips and swipes hair out of his eyes, leaning his forehead on me. I know Johnny’s giving me the chance to change the pace if I want to, but the passion in my next kiss lets him know that’s off the table. I drag his lip lightly between my teeth and bite, not too hard, and he hisses in surprise, and takes control of the kiss.

He pulls my shirt off, and reaches behind me to unclip my bra, dropping them to the puddled floor.

He kisses more tenderly around the mark on my chest. It hurts, but worryingly, I don’t mind, and I bite my lip in pleasure.

He adjusts his hold on me so he can push inside. That groan of relief from him is my very favorite thing, and I tip my head back on the tiles to watch him as he starts to move our bodies.

Finally it’s just his skin and mine, slick and smooth and sliding together. I love the way the fingers on my thighs have been digging in harder and harder, the tips making little crescents of tingling intensity as they press into me, and the way his hair is once again plastered across his forehead will be my cause of death, write the report now, I’ll sign off on it.

My hands look for pleasure in the unyielding shapes that make up his arms. The shower is falling behind him, mostly, wetting his hair, and droplets fall down from his shoulders to his chest, and I need to chase those with my mouth.

I know I’ll be back up on the edge of release with little effort, so I stave off the purest intensity of it, and instead start his climb with him, moaning as he fucks me against the wall.

I know I’m not going to want it this way every time, and maybe hardly ever, and yet it’s simultaneously the best possible thing. I can’t explain it.

“Kim,” he starts to murmur, and I hear the tightness coming in. “ _Kim_ …”

My need responds to that painfully quickly, and I feel my body wind up taut around him.

He’s grinding out curses, each one like a song to me, and he frees a hand to my cheek, to hold my face close where he can look at me, then he’s pushing wet strands of my hair back away from my eyes and sliding his splayed fingers down from my forehead to trace softly over my face, my lips, all the way to my breast, and his deep kiss finds the base of my neck.

“ _Goddess_ ,” I hear, and he shudders against me, and then my world explodes in light. I’m screaming out I don’t even know what, as I shake and shake and he holds me up somehow.

At some time, we started kissing, and that’s what’s happening when the trembling starts to fade away. I slip carefully out of his grasp and stand up, leaning against the wall while he sags against me, kissing me long and slow.

Johnny’s expression, when I see it, tells me it was just as good for him. I’m still wondering exactly how we achieved this in the first place, and I sigh, resting my hands around his neck.

“Is this ok?” he asks, running the lightest touch across the tender part of my chest.

“Are you kidding me?”

His lips twitch. “That was….”

“Yeah.”

He lets out a shallow breath, with this wonderment in his smile. “Not that I want to, but I guess… we should get out of here.”

“Yup. And I just realised clothing might be a problem.”

*

We don’t have ages to linger and recover, but we manage.

We go to the mall because we can get something to eat there. I deal with the problem of my wet clothes by wearing one of his shirts under my jacket, hoping this hides that I don’t have a bra on.

We hang out for a bit, walking along with our hands locked together, while I do some aimless window shopping. I always like to look in the jewellers’ window, at the silver bracelets, and I see that my favorite one is still there, the one with the little emerald charms, hearts, all round it. Hey, a girl can dream.

With the carnal response to watching Johnny do karate out of the way (a response I’ve been picturing in one form or another for a long time, long before we got together), the rest of how it felt to watch him settles back into place and starts to fill my mind in its more measured way.

I’m totally in awe, and I have no idea if I can try to hide it or not.

Johnny was going to come over tonight, although I need to talk to him about that, because maybe he shouldn’t. Mom and Dad have worked it all out, finally, and they want him to come for dinner sometime, a proper, sit-down dinner. I’m not willing for tonight to have that, which they might try to pull if they get the chance, and besides, I haven’t even broached the subject with him at all, yet.

I’m not sure if it will be a _thing_ for Johnny.

It’s one of the reasons I decided to play things down low for as long as I could. I know exactly what Mom is like, and Dad is sometimes even worse. The idea that they might inadvertently frighten Johnny away has me breaking a sweat, if I’m honest. I am already cringing as I think about me, Bobby and Johnny sitting around the table in a formal set-up with my parents. Like, are they gonna pretend they haven’t known him for like, six years already? And what’s Bobby gonna do while we’re all sitting there, being questioned about Johnny’s _intentions?_

Kill me.

*

Johnny has all the best spots for night parking. It doesn’t really matter if it’s abandoned (in fact, we want it to be); it’s not dangerous because Johnny’s with me, and I’d like to see anyone try anything.

He’s sitting up on the hood with his legs crossed, up between the lights of the Studebaker, which he’s left on park. I’m standing, looking out at the twinkling city below.

“You didn’t mind me being there, did you?” I ask him. “Watching today?”

“That depends.”

I turn around, raising an eyebrow. “On what?”

He leans back on his elbows while he watches me. “On what you thought about what you saw.”

I cross my arms. “You didn’t get that, already?”

“I mean other than that.”

“You know I think it was amazing. You’re a natural.” I shake my head with wonder. I don’t mind if he sees me awestruck; he’s earned it.

He looks down at his knees with a crooked smile. “I need to find someone to train me, too, I guess.”

I blow out a breath. “For real? Exactly what do you have left to learn?”

He’s giving a self-deprecating smile, even though he’s enjoying the compliments, which is an interesting look on him, kinda freaking _adorable_. “Well, like, years and years of stuff. I, uh. I wanna be…”

“An expert? A champion?” I smile pointedly. “Think you got that covered.”

He’s got a resolve in his look now, a determination. “I can get better.”

“Then you will. I have no doubt. You gonna keep training the guys?”

“Sure, as long as they want me to.”

I sigh admiringly. “I can’t understand… like I can’t even _comprehend_ how you can do all that, know all that, and be able to teach them the way you did. They were soaking in every word from you. I literally can’t imagine anyone leading a better lesson than I saw. ”

Again there’s that reserved response, almost diffidence, and it hits me that when it comes to things that really matter, Johnny’s natural confidence abandons him. He knows he’s hot, can be self-assured that girls want him, can even be cocky if he’s good at things, but if it’s about something important, something deeper inside, he doesn’t believe in himself.

I know who to thank for that, but I also think it’s something that can hopefully be fixed, or at least made better.

“I know I’m not really the right person to tell you. I don’t know much about karate, sure. Just believe me when I say the guys – Bobby, Tommy – have said enough to me, when you’re not around. You’re the best teacher they’ve ever had.”

“Nah,” he argues, “I don’t know enough, not yet –”

“I know you think that. And maybe you’re right; you’ll get some training, and you’ll become even better. But it’s not just about what you know. That’s not what makes a good teacher.”

He chews his lip in thought.

I go on, “It’s how you are with the students. It’s whether you can teach the way they need. It’s whether they wanna learn from what you’re saying.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“Listen up, hotshot. I’m not stroking your ego here. I mean what I said. You’re a natural.”

He smirks. “Okay, calm down.”

“I’ll give you calm,” I mutter. But I look at him steadily. “Thank you for showing me. Today.”

There’s satisfaction in his smile, but also something tempting. “Welcome. And… uh. The way you, uh, enjoyed watching me do karate. That a new thing?”

I bite my cheek. “I think you know the answer to that.”

“And yet, you never told me?”

I grin, hedging. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. I admitted I had a crush on you when we were younger. That would’ve been a real good time for you to tell me you’d noticed me, too, don’t you think?”

“Why would I want you to know that?”

I’m no match for that confident, seductive look. It affects me internally, in deep places.

I climb up to sit by him. “How long?” he asks.

“Forget it, I’ll never tell.”

“That long, huh?”

“Not that long, and you will literally never know, so you may as well give up.” I’m looking down at his old Cobra Kai jacket, which is zipped up, and I say contemplatively, “I guess you don’t wanna put the gi back on.”

This draws a low chuckle from him. “And here I thought this was your favorite jacket.”

I smile, lying down on the hood next to him, pillowed on my arm, and he rolls over, so we’re face to face. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out something small and putting it on the hood between us.

It’s a tiny wrapped up box, about two inches across, square.

“Johnny?” I ask.

“Thought it was time I get you a present.” He’s smiling serenely, and I wonder if he realises he’s made me reminisce about his birthday, for a minute there. Mmm.

“You didn’t have to,” I say, because you’re _obliged_ to say that, aren’t you?

But really, I am internally squealing in delight. “Go on,” he tells me, and I reach for it.

I notice him watching my face very closely, watching me for a reaction when I unwrap the blue velvet box.

I’m not going to pretend I don’t suspect what he might have put inside (even if I wonder _how in the hell_ he managed it, without me realising), but when I flip the lid up and see the bracelet lying there, my breath is taken away.

I gaze up at Johnny. “I…” I stammer, and shake my head slightly, so overcome with how I feel about him after today, I still can’t breathe.

“Put it on,” he coaxes gently, and he picks it up out of the box.

He clips it onto my wrist, the cool metal settling onto my skin like it belongs, the tiny emeralds catching a glint of moonlight. I bite my lip to bite back my emotion, and this smile blooms on his face.

I touch the bracelet, briefly, and then his face, a moment which can stretch on forever, as far as I’m concerned.

“Kim?”

“Yeah?”

He’s looking between my eyes. The backs of his fingers stroke along my jaw. “You know that I – you know that I love you. Right? That I’m in love with you.”

There’s about eight hundred pieces of my heart now, bursting, shimmering, flying around inside my chest, and my eyes flicker closed on a smile.

His thumb touches over my lip. The intensity in his gaze is my whole universe.

I reckon it might even take me a minute, maybe two, to realise that I said nothing about the bracelet, or about the words that are filling my mind. But his smile tells me he practically can read my thoughts, anyway.

I take his hand and lace our fingers together, studying him, and we stay there, lying up there in the hills, on the hood of his car, in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter to go, then the epilogue which is just a deleted scene.
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed!


	7. The Important Things in Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter about Johnny and Kim.  
> The optional epilogue (Chapter 8) is a closing scene of the Browns, which I felt didn’t sit right inside this chapter, so it got deleted.
> 
> This is a good time to draw your attention to the canon-typical violence tag that’s been there since the beginning.
> 
> It’s been really fun sharing this story here, and I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride. To KingKarate, Jenpconn, Amanda and rebates912, thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing your thoughts with me.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I’d love to hear from you :)

The semester’s nearly done.

Double dates with some of my friends have gone okay, and we are fitting into each other’s groups pretty naturally, although there’s no doubt I get along a lot more easily with his friends.

So that just leaves family. Mostly mine, since he doesn’t particularly care for anything to happen at his house, yet. Maybe later, with his mom, he tells me. Maybe sometime.

I don’t push.

But the dinner can’t really be delayed any longer. I want to get it out the way before Thanksgiving.

So here we are, and I have to say, Bobby has been very well-behaved tonight. I mean, he definitely made some kind of gesture before, which none of us caught except Johnny - just after Dad started the interrogation, they both had this moment where they seemed to be stifling just about tears of laughter, and I had no choice but to kick Bobby under the table.

I guess he’s gonna save the rest of the teasing for later on, when the three of us might go out and sit by the pool again.

“So tell me more about your classes,” my father asks Johnny, because that’s the most important thing for Dad.

Johnny talks about some business and economic courses he has been taking, for a little bit, and wouldn’t you know, we’re already finishing up the main course. So far we’ve covered karate, college and future plans (which Johnny ducked elegantly), and it hasn’t been as bad as it could have been.

Mom is smiling at me so much that I want to tell her to _stop,_ but I guess it’s good that she approves.

Johnny clears his throat. “Actually, I’ve been thinking of changing majors.”

I can see him bite his cheek, and he looks speculative.

“Go on,” my father encourages.

“Well, I think I’d like to go into teaching sport, like a coach or something.”

I’m watching Johnny, in pleased surprise, and he relaxes a little when he sees me beaming at this news, which is very much news to me.

“Well, that can be a respectable job,” my father says, considering. I silently beg him not to give even a hint of disapproval to Johnny, who has had that, so often, from his father figures. “Can you get a scholarship?”

“I don’t think so,” Johnny replies. “I think I’ve missed that boat, but that’s okay. UCLA has a bunch of programs. I’m gonna meet with my advisor at the end of semester, and see what my options are.”

“That’s wonderful,” my mother pronounces. “You’re a born athlete. I always thought that was your calling.”

Johnny looks away, pleased, mutters a “Thanks,” and Bobby and I steal a secret smile.

“It must be nice to go to college in the same place as our children,” Dad says. “I remember having a lot of fun in my own college days.” With that, Dad’s off into some anecdote, which Johnny attends very conscientiously, and which is followed by another, and another.

By the end of the night, I know Johnny has the boyfriend seal of approval.

*

It’s a tricky night, in December.

We’re getting burgers. The gang’s all here, even the girlfriends, too, so we’ve got this big table in the corner of the joint, and we’re all sitting round it in a circle. Jimmy and Jennifer are still attached (she’s quite nice, actually), and Cindy’s back in the picture, which made my brother glow, so I’m allowing it. I might have to have a big sister chat with her one day, mainly because I like to think of how Bobby will squirm if he finds out.

None of us have mentioned All-Valley. The tournament was on today, and I guess that’s why they all wanted to be together tonight.

It’s playing on everyone’s minds, or at least all the guys, because they are touchy as all _fuck,_ particularly Johnny.

Where we are, we’re a few blocks from the arena. It’s all decorated for Christmas here, tinsel running around the borders of the room and decorations hanging down from it, although this has so far failed to have a festive effect upon our table.

It’s probably about 9:30 when the first groups of spectators come in, a small sea of voices buzzing with gossip and excitement, replaying the bouts in their stories

“Did you see those moves he pulled? Practically kicked LaRusso into the crowd,” someone laughs.

At the name, immediate tension settles on our group. I see them all look to Johnny, but he doesn’t give much of a sign.

“That Barnes was insane!” There’s a flicker of recognition between Johnny and Dutch at the name, which means nothing to me.

“Mike Barnes?” Tommy mouths to Bobby. “They let _Barnes_ in?”

“Who is that?” I ask Tommy.

“Ugh,” he says. “This jerk we used to meet in comps a few years back.”

Bobby scoffs. “And every time, he’d be with a new dojo. Kept on getting kicked out, I’m pretty sure.”

“Right,” Tommy says. “He… he could make some of our old sensei’s moves look like a day at the ballet.”

A group of fans with t-shirts supporting a dojo in Tarzana move past us. A guy is telling a girl at his side, “They don’t call Mike Barnes the bad boy for nothing.”

“Yeah, so he fits in well at Cobra Kai,” says a disparaging voice from the back of their group.

I feel five of the people at the table tense up, and Dutch is shaking his head menacingly at Tommy, like he might not let that pass unchallenged, and Tommy will be expected to back him up. I roll my eyes, wondering if he’s forgotten he doesn’t go there anymore, but it’s not like there’s ever any reasoning with Dutch.

“Yeah, but the main thing is,” says the first guy, “he didn’t win. Reckon that’ll be the end of the snakes, now.”

“Oh, sure,” someone else says. “I was surprised they were even there, after last year. Did you see the way the sensei and that other guy stormed off? They’re finished.”

I see Bobby’s tight mouth. I see the muscle twitching in Dutch’s temple. Unwillingly, we are all riveted to the words, and I’m trying to find Johnny’s hand under the table, to hold it, but he’s shrugging me off, staring stony faced, straight ahead.

“Yeah,” says the girl, “I gotta say, I was rooting for Daniel by the end.”

Tommy’s fingers clench around his soda glass, and I think, like me, he is begging the guy not to say the next words that come out.

“Yeah, at least he won! Did you _see_ that flip? The way he…”

Their voices fade from our hearing, finally, and I swear under my breath. Dutch does it louder, and much more expertly. And it’s all about LaRusso - I glean that he’s now far more pissed off about the gang’s old enemy succeeding, than the Cobra Kai talk.

Then he says, “Hey, Johnny, man, it doesn’t-”

“Don’t,” Bobby says tiredly, and they all fall quiet.

Sure, they hate to hear that Kreese was there, that their old dojo was there, and that more shame has been brought on it. But more than that, Johnny’s just lost something he had over Daniel, and we can all feel that pain. Of course it _matters._ For some reason, it just does.

“I’m outta here,” Johnny announces, shoving his chair back with a harsh scraping sound on the tiles, and standing up.

“C’mon, man,” Dutch pleads, rising and throwing out a hand, grabbing Johnny by the shoulder.

“Don’t touch me,” Johnny hisses, glaring at his friend way more harshly than he would ever mean to.

Dutch withdraws, crumpled in shock, but hides the hurt dizzyingly fast.

“Hey, fuck you. I’m trying to help!”

“Then keep your hands off me,” Johnny says coldly, and he turns his back on all of us and walks away.

Bobby sighs, resigned. “I’ll go.”

“Yeah good luck with _that_ ,” Dutch huffs scornfully, and he’s angrily putting his jacket on. Jimmy and Tommy argue with him, telling him to chill out, but he’s walking away from both of them, leaving by a different door, and I’m trying to catch up with Bobby instead.

I feel the tears streaming down my cheeks, thinking about Johnny, about his fresh wound, and I’m rubbing them away, trying to see which way up the street Bobby’s gone. I start walking, and then I’m breaking into a run, doubling back while I search.

I don’t know how many minutes have passed when a trash lid falling from a bin in an alley to my right startles me, and then I can see the two of them, Bobby and Johnny, about fifty yards away down the end there, voices raised in something like an argument.

I can’t hear them, not the exact words, but Bobby’s reaching out to Johnny, trying to cajole him into calming down.

I slow, start walking toward them. I’m about two thirds of the way there, when a hand reaches out from the darkness and grabs me by my arm, propelling me toward him.

I scream, terrified, as I am pulled in by a strong arm, nearly losing my balance, except that my attacker holds me up with my back against him, nearly choking me. There’s a harsh whisper in my ear. “Would you look what I caught...”

I realise it’s John Kreese.

I can’t get my head around to look at him, not really, but there’s no mistaking it. He must have been lurking in the shadows, and now he has me against his chest. He’s hot, sweaty; he smells of the sweat, and the muscles holding me are like an iron grip.

“Get _off_ me,” I try to say, but it comes out weaker than I want. I’m dizzy; this guy must be trying to cut off my air, or my blood flow, or something. He adjusts his grip, and it’s like being in a vise. There is simply no escape.

He spins us to face the guys, and it has the desired effect on them. Johnny and Bobby are staring at me, at us, horrified, any other issue forgotten; one second later, they are pelting back toward us.

“Stop right there,” says a terrifying voice, and their feet falter. “I said stop, or I’ll break her neck.”

Bobby gives an anguished cry. “ _Kimmy!”_

But it’s Johnny who I lock eyes with, and I’m frightened to see how much he cares about me in that second, like I’ve betrayed him by putting myself in danger this way, and how could I do that, but does he think it was my _choice?_

“That’s better,” Kreese tells them, because they are standing still, no longer approaching, obedient to the command out of necessity. I see both faces already calculating.

They start to move apart, just a little, their legs becoming limber, but Kreese puts an end to that. “Last warning, boys. If you value her life, you won’t take another step.”

Bobby sighs irritably, to let Kreese know he’s won.

“Good…. good.” He loosens his grip enough so that I can breathe properly, and as I recover my air, and my heartbeat, I start to seethe with rage.

“We’re going to have a little talk,” says that hated voice, to his old students. “Just you and me. And then you’re gonna come back to Cobra Kai.”

“Over my dead body,” Johnny instantly says.

“I can arrange that,” Kreese says casually, “but it’s the last thing I want. Come on… tell me you don’t miss the old days.”

“Let her go,” Bobby counters, and I can see it in him; he’s wildly trying to concoct a plan. “Then we’ll talk.”

Kreese laughs; my skin crawls. “You think I’m stupid? What, you gonna give me your word of _honor,_ Brown?”

He spits on the ground next to my foot. “Come now… we all know that would be worthless, coming from you.”

I see Bobby fight to push down how that rankles, even though it’s a direct hit. His focus is only on me, getting me away from the threat. His eyes are telling me it’s gonna be okay, although I can’t see anything that could make him think that.

“This little piece of goods matters to both of you, I think.” He brandishes me at them, pushing me forward. “You give me the answer I want, and I’ll let her go. No harm done, I promise.”

I signal with just about the only part of me I can, my eyes, at Johnny, Bobby, and back again, and we time it well.

I stamp down hard on his foot and the two of them are already moving forward. Kreese cries out in surprise and pain and loosens the few inches I need to bite his forearm and push away. He gives an angry yell, and lashes out, before I can escape.

A hard kick, in my back, sends me into the cartons by the wall, and I yelp in pain when my shoulder connects with brick.

It’s Johnny who calls out my name this time, but I scream, “I’m fine!” knowing they could waste precious seconds, when they should attack.

“How dare you!” Bobby growls, and there is almost a melding of three angry bodies as they take on their sensei.

Bobby tries to punch him three times, without success, and I realise his rage has made him lose any chance he might have with a cool head.

Johnny’s flying kick, on the other hand, takes Kreese on the back while he’s busy ducking my brother, but Kreese blocks the jab that follows.

“Nice try,” Kreese taunts him, spinning and kicking him in the stomach, but Johnny only recoils for a moment with the pain, and then heads back in.

The following flurry of strikes and jabs from Johnny should have been enough to take Kreese down, turn anyone’s chest and ribs into mincemeat; Bobby’s high kick should have put his lights out, maybe for _good,_ but the man clearly isn’t human.

It goes on; they circle constantly, and Kreese manoeuvres between them, anticipating their moves and avoiding some of the worst ones. I see both of them make contact, again and again, but it isn’t enough. I wince every time they get hit, because Kreese is attacking to injure them, if not kill them. I cradle my shoulder, dizzy, coming to realise I must have hit my head, too, when standing up doesn’t go so well.

I stumble sideways, just as Kreese’s strikes to thigh and then the back of the neck force Johnny to his knees, and I see blood streaming from Johnny’s nose from an earlier hit. It’s running down his shirt, and I gotta _do_ something before Kreese moves in to finish the job.

But Bobby’s there. He jumps and kicks Kreese in the face, and we all hear a crack.

 _Way to go_! I think, but the man moves on as if nothing happened, as if his face wasn’t red and broken, and proceeds to rain a series of vicious kicks on my brother’s chest and sides, and Bobby is retreating up the alley, forced to defend himself.

Kreese is just too strong, knows their moves too well, and he has the bigger repertoire. He knows the boys’ instincts before they form into thoughts or plans, and I can’t see anything they can do to beat him.

But I realise, with Kreese’s attention moved away, I can go for help.

I work on standing up, slower this time, breathing through the nausea this causes, and I steady my hand on the bricks.

The rabid man grapples Bobby, and there’s a sickening thump as he flips him over, onto the ground, driving the wind out of him and then whirling right on Johnny, who is approaching again from behind.

“Come on, why do this?” Kreese tries again, as they circle each other. “We can be great together, Johnny. You know we can.”

“You’re sick, and twisted,” Johnny tells him, his voice eerily calm, devoid of any emotion but the coldest of rage. “And I wish I’d never met you.”

Kreese’s low laugh is menacing and dismissive. “You don’t mean that. What would you be without me? Just some weak, pathetic loser -”

I see one movement from the shadows. The kick, from Dutch, hits Kreese hard in the back of his skull, propelling him toward Johnny, forcing a harsh exhale of surprised pain.

“You’re the loser,” Dutch grunts out, and spins a second kick, which has Kreese on one knee, rubbing his head, swaying, but trying to get up and size up his new enemy.

He never gets the chance. Johnny’s hand comes down hard, knocking him out cold. He slumps to the ground.

No one moves, not daring to believe it’s over. I hear Bobby whimper quietly, but it sounds like relief, and my heart unclenches. He must be okay.

Dutch stands there, looking at Johnny for a second, arms fidgeting at his side.

Eventually Johnny says, “That was a good kick.”

Dutch’s mouth twitches. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Saved my ass.”

I see Dutch smile, and then Johnny’s down with Bobby, making sure he’s able to get up.

All three of them come over to me.

“Hey, you okay?” Bobby asks, and Johnny is reaching up to my temple, his hand coming away red.

I feel him catch me, when it all goes black.

*

When I come to, there are some beeping sounds from a little way away, like another room, the smell of disinfectant and the squeak of rubber-soled shoes.

The hospital light over my bed is offensively bright.

It’s an effort to open my eyes more than a slit, so instead, I listen to some quiet voices. Mom. Dad. Bobby.

Johnny.

“She took the worst of it,” Bobby is saying. “That bastard kicked her into a wall. If we’d realised how bad it was-”

“You might not have had the wherewithal to protect her, or yourselves,” my dad says. “So I’d say on balance, it’s a good thing you didn’t know.” The fact that he didn’t even reprimand Bobby for swearing forces my eyes open successfully at last.

The four of them are speaking in hushed voices with their backs mostly turned, trying not to wake me. I feel a rush of love for them all, considering how bad they are at it. And that they are all here, that everyone is okay. We made it.

Dad goes on, “Kimmy’s going to be fine. It’s just a concussion, and not a bad one.”

“And her shoulder,” says Mom’s nervous voice. “How about you, Bobby? Are the meds helping?”

“Sure, Mom. It doesn’t hurt so bad. At least he left this pretty face alone, right? Not like poor Johnny over here.” Of course, Bobby sounds gleeful.

The way Mom clears her throat makes me think Johnny must have done some kind of rude gesture in response to that, but I can’t see it.

“Yeah, well,” Johnny drawls, “guess you gotta be grateful for any advantages, with what you’re working with.”

Bobby chuckles, and I try to move my hand, weak as a kitten.

It’s Mom who notices. I let my parents fuss over me for a few minutes, as Johnny stands back, under obvious strain to do so, but he does. I’m alarmed to see his black eyes, and a number of other cuts, and those are just the ones I can see. His face is a testament to Kreese’s rage, and it causes a pain inside me I can’t get rid of. But I shelve it, for the moment.

Bobby joins in a little with the hovering, asking me if he can get me anything.

“Hard drugs,” I suggest, laughing at Dad’s stern look, and then grimacing at the pain that lights up in my shoulder from the movement.

It’s been strapped up, and I wonder what’s going on under there. I hear also the slight rustle of some kind of padded bandage on my temple, along my hairline.

Once they are all satisfied, have fussed a little more, Mom is astute enough to tell my dad that it’s been a long night, and high time they go got a coffee, maybe see if there’s a cafeteria.

Bobby keeps his hand on my forearm for another minute, and Johnny comes to sit by the bed, on my other side. His face is damaged so much that I wince, just looking at him.

“Is he gone?” I ask, including Johnny in the question.

Bobby nods. “He’s been charged with felony assault, and a bunch of other stuff.”

They exchange a glance. Johnny explains, “Cops said you’ll need to make a statement.” He looks at me with concern. “Kim, if you don’t want to, I’m sure we can talk to -”

“It’s fine,” I declare firmly. “It will be my _pleasure_.” I grit my teeth in satisfaction. The idea that I might be able to see that creep behind bars is the best end to this I could possibly imagine.

“You’re okay?” I ask Bobby.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Nothing permanent. I’ll be nursing it for a while, but these drugs are great.” By the shine in his eyes, I believe him.

“Get me some of those, remember.”

Bobby smiles, sighs and stands up. “I’ll see you a bit later.”

“How ‘bout you go find Cindy,” I suggest. ”See if she wants to kiss it better.”

“Fuck off,” Bobby says, smiling, and giving me the finger, our signal that everything is once again right with the world. "I'm gonna go find Dutch, and we'll come back."

When I’m alone with Johnny, I see him chew the inside of his cheek.

“Big night, huh?” I venture, and he breathes a huffed laugh.

“You like to give me a heart attack, don’t you?”

“Apparently,” I sigh. I say timidly, “I’m so sorry, Johnny.”

He leans in quickly, admonishing me with a shake of his head. “You got nothing to be sorry about… don’t you dare say that.” He gingerly picks up my hand. “Does this hurt?”

“No, that’s my good side.” There’s no pain there, at least. Johnny raises my knuckles to his lips, grazing them with a kiss, and keeping my hand there.

“He hurt you,” I say, lifting my fingers to touch one of the few places on his face, that doesn’t have a plaster or a swollen bruise.

“Weirdly, I’ve had worse,” he admits proudly. I roll my eyes.

He says lightly, “It’ll heal.”

“Does it hurt? There, or anywhere else?”

“Yeah. You gonna kiss it better for me?” he asks suggestively.

“Quit it.”

“C’mon, Kim…” he coaxes, and I can feel the charm, the unstoppable force of his nature.

I purse my lips. “Depends where.”

He muses, “Where would you be willing?”

“Johnny…”

“I mean, I’d be happy with right here.” He touches my hand to his lips again.

“Pretty sure I’d only hurt you. Plus, I don’t think I can get up, just yet.”

“My loss,” he grumbles half-heartedly. “Hey, they… they said you might need an operation for your shoulder. It got dislocated, but there’s a tear or something.” His brow is creased with concern again.

“Yeah, Dad mentioned an x-ray tomorrow.”

“You Browns are the walking wounded,” he tells me.

I retort, “Have you looked in a mirror?”

Johnny smiles, but it’s more of a grimace. “Do you still love me? Now that I look like this?”

The way he’s staring at me, he knows the answer, but I say, “I do love you. So much… but… maybe not _that_ much.”

He tries and fails with a petulant look, and I stroke my weak fingers on his cheek again. “I’m sorry about the tournament.”

Johnny sighs wearily. After a moment, he says, “I’m not sure I care about that anymore.”

“I’m still sorry. It’s real shitty.”

“I guess.” He shrugs slightly. I suppose we both know why maybe it’s okay, why the world isn’t so bad right now. Kreese is gone from our lives, and it’s a beautiful thought.

Then he asks, “So, what kind of hard drugs you want me to get?”

“Cocaine. Heroin. Heroin will do.”

*

Christmas is a pretty sedate affair, due to my recovery. Bobby is doing great, and Johnny too. His black eyes are gone, and not long after that, most of the cuts have healed up without even a scar, so he must be cursed with excellent genes.

My physical therapy work takes some time to get my shoulder working properly. I should be grateful I skipped surgery, I guess, but I’m still impatient to be back to normal.

*

It’s in the new year when I hear a couple of cars pull up in the drive.

Bobby opens the door, and he and I go out front. We see everyone piling out. Cindy’s with them, I see, and two new girls, who must be for Tommy and Dutch.

“Hey,” Johnny calls, standing in the centre of the group, and we echo the greeting.

“So, we can come in and hang out, or we can go out somewhere, your choice.” He’s looking at me when he says this.

“My choice, huh?” I ask, glancing from Dutch, to Jimmy, to the rest of them, all looking at us on the doorstep.

“Yeah,” Jimmy tells me. “You missed Christmas.”

“Right,” Johnny agrees. “We can go look for trees, see if there are any still decorated. Or go shopping for some gifts and have our own Christmas tonight. Whatever you want.”

“How ‘bout ice skating?” Tommy says. “Nearest Kimmy’s gonna get to snow this year.”

“Yeah, great idea,” Dutch laughs. “Maybe you didn’t notice her sling, stupid?”

“That’s it,” I say, firmly, with a grin at Tommy. “I wanna go skating.”

Bobby starts to protest at my side, and Johnny raises an eyebrow in question, but I speak, looking down at him.

“It’s okay, Johnny’s the king of balance. He won’t let me fall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone :)
> 
> I’m working on some one shots of Johnny with… some of the other Cobras, which I might end up posting in a series called ‘Working up a Sweat’.
> 
> But the next chaptered story from me is going to be ‘Malibu’, which you can look out for very soon, because I'm finishing it up. It’s a Johnny/Ali fix-it from 1986.


	8. Epilogue (Deleted Scene from Chapter 7)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Kimmy and Bobby pay a visit to Mr Miyagi, and some of the demons of the past are laid to rest.

It takes a lot of persistence. But when Bobby realises I’m not going to quit nagging (his word, not mine; I’d prefer to say I was _persuading_ ) he eventually agrees to come with me.

I look up the phone number for the bonsai shop, and ring up. It takes me a few tries to get the old man to pick up the phone (each time Daniel answers, I hang up right away), but eventually I’m able to tell him that my brother was one of the old Cobra Kais, and wants to come and see him, which is possibly a slight stretch of the truth.

He invites us to his apartment, some upper level in a block in Reseda. I’m gonna guess he hasn’t moved in long ago, since there’s a bunch of empty cardboard boxes stacked up, pretty neatly, on the walkway either side of the door. Bobby shifts restlessly from one foot to the other, as I reach up and knock on the screen door.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, looking uncertainly through the mesh into the room we can see beyond, a little room that seems part kitchen, part workroom, part I’m-not-sure-what.

“Trust me,” I tell him, quickly squeezing his hand.

“Ah, visitor arrive,” says a familiar friendly voice.

The door opens and the little sensei’s standing there smiling up at us, at Bobby too. And if he’s surprised, or concerned, to see that the brother I mentioned happens to be the kid who hurt Daniel’s leg, the year before last, you’d never know it.

“Come, please enter.” He’s holding out a hand, instructing us to walk past into the crowded space.

Bobby flashes me a nervous glance, but I motion that he should go first, and then I follow him in.

There are more boxes in here, the ones he hasn’t unpacked yet, but there’s plenty of stuff already on the surfaces of the apartment, and on some folding tables, much of it to do with bonsai.

Once we’re all standing there looking at each other, the old man bows to me, from his waist, and I return the gesture. “Thank you for inviting us over,” I tell him warmly. “This is my brother. Bobby.”

Miyagi bows to him, too, and Bobby seems compelled to return it, even though there’s a guarded look in his eyes.

“Miyagi glad we are introduced properly.” And if the words ‘at last’ hang in the air, so be it.

Bobby clears his throat. “Nice – nice to meet you.”

“Nice meet you, also.”

Bobby chews his lip, but our host’s eyes are drawn to my sling, which I still have to wear during most of the day.

“What happen arm?”

I sigh, giving it a little motion. “It’s my shoulder, actually. That’s what we wanted to come talk to you about, well, sort of.”

Some lines of concern have appeared around his eyes and he nods at us. “Come. Sit. You drink tea.”

He leads us through the boxes, over to the back corner, where he’s got a table that’s right down near the ground. It’s got this pretty paper lamp in the middle, and these flat cushions around it. Somehow Bobby seems to know they are for kneeling on, so I copy him, taking the spot next to him.

Mr Miyagi kneels opposite us, and pours tea for us into these sweet little cups. There’s no milk or sugar on the table, but he gestures, picking up his cup with one hand cradling it, that we should take a sip, so we do. It’s not bad, although it is a little bitter.

I consider my words, and then begin. “Bobby’s old sensei’s in jail. Soon to be prison.”

Miyagi’s face is immediately flickering with interest, although I’m not sure whether he appreciates the meaning of the different words or not. He doesn’t interrupt me, so I go on.

“He tried to attack me. He uh – he was trying to use me, threaten me, to make Bobby go back to him. To Cobra Kai.” I add, after a moment, “And Johnny, too.”

Miyagi nods, very slightly, otherwise motionless as he listens.

“They were both there, you see, in the alley when he grabbed me. They… they saved me. They had to fight him to get him away from me, them and one more of the old students. It was a pretty bad fight.”

Miyagi considers Bobby, like he’s inspecting him, and Bobby stares uncomfortably down at his lap.

“Protect sister, good,” the man pronounces, before adding gently, “challenge teacher, difficult.”

Bobby gives a small nod, and speaks hesitantly. “He hurt Kimmy. Real bad. She had to go to the hospital.”

“I’m fine,” I offer, but Bobby keeps talking.

His eyes come up, and he says with a determination, “And he isn’t my teacher anymore. Not since the tournament.”

The old man smiles in that cryptic way of his. “Miyagi thought not.”

They regard each other in silence, and then Bobby takes a deep breath. He comes out with, “I wanna thank you for saving Johnny, that night.”

Unsaid is that Johnny isn’t here to say it himself, but that day is still some time away, if it can ever come.

“Welcome. Miyagi sorry was necessary.”

“You got no idea what that creep was like,” Bobby says with feeling.

A few seconds pass, and then: “Miyagi have small idea. Bad man.” There’s another inscrutable look. “Bad teacher, worse.”

Bobby starts to nod, very slowly, gratitude at the concession made to him. He’s looking steadily at the old man. He surprises me when he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” he is told, before I can wonder what it covers, what it refers to.

Maybe it’s everything.

“Miyagi sorry, too. Wish could change past, but cannot. Hope you understand: I only protecting, too.”

Bobby nods again, chewing the inside of his lip. “I’m sorry for what happened in the semi-final,” he clarifies, needing to get that out there precisely, and I can see the shame which he holds for it tinging his cheeks.

I know it was Daniel he did it to, Daniel he injured deliberately. But he also did try to make it up to him, with no luck, at least twice. Besides, I don’t think Daniel’s earned any more of our concern, right at the moment.

Mr Miyagi takes a sip of his tea. He closes his eyes briefly in recognition. “Already apologise for mistake when it happen. No need do again.”

Bobby shrugs; he’s awkward with this being treated lightly. “Well, I wish I’d have never done it, that’s all.”

“Miyagi know that.”

Bobby frowns slightly, not comfortable with being forgiven so easily.

Miyagi says firmly, “No such thing as bad student, only bad teacher.”

“I don’t know about that-” Bobby begins, but Miyagi cuts him off.

“You, no argue. Trust Miyagi. He old, very wise.” Bobby gives him an unwilling smile, which is returned. “When teacher go on wrong path, only bravest student try stop him.”

He gives a pointed look at my arm now, and the dual message is clear. He knows Bobby eventually found a way to reject Kreese’s influence over him, but that it must have been wrenching to do it.

Bobby looks sideways at me, and I smile at him. _See? I told you._

Mr Miyagi asks, “You no longer learn karate? Big shame. Very sad for old man see.”

Bobby breathes in and out, and so I reply, “Actually, Johnny’s been training him.” I look at Bobby. “For a few months. He’s been training all of them.”

Miyagi watches my brother with interest. “He good teacher?”

Bobby nods eagerly, with a winning smile. “The best.”

“Miyagi very pleased hear this. Good. Make heart happy.”

“Me too,” I agree. “It’s about time my brother had a sensei who wasn’t – you know –”

There’s not really a way to finish that sentence, so I don’t bother.

“What style karate he teach?”

“Look, it’s hard to say,” Bobby replies. “I… don’t know if it’s the kind you do, but it isn’t like Cobra Kai, either.”

“You learn many lesson?”

“Oh, all the time,” Bobby agrees keenly.

“Good,” Miyagi concludes.

He offers us more tea.

*

It’s so, _so_ hard not to say ‘I told you so’, but I manage it somehow.

Bobby is pretty self-contained for the next few hours, when we get home. When he sees me biting back a smile he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Quit it. So you were right. So what?”

But he can’t hide from me. I know about that relief he’s feeling, his happy peace, and I want to burst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for staying with me to the end. See you next time :)


End file.
